


Working It Out

by traumschwinge



Series: Patchwork [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Parent-Child Relationship, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 50,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27088189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumschwinge/pseuds/traumschwinge
Summary: Being pregnant is never easy and it's worse when the ability to get pregnant never much figured into one's identity before. But at least Geralt has his family to help him deal with most of it, even when he doesn't much want to. He is trying to have a different, better, relationship with Emhyr now and Emhyr is trying, too. Ciri is also trying, mostly to not be at home for any prolonged amount of time, since two parents are twice as annoying as one parent.All in all, they're all settling into family life, despite all the sudden changes.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Emhyr var Emreis, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Pavetta, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Patchwork [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977076
Comments: 83
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a work in progress! Updates might be slow.  
> But thanks to every single one who'd commented on the previous fic and asked for this sequel. This is for you.

Geralt rolled from his back to his side and then stopped, slowly waking to the fact that he couldn’t lie on his belly anymore. Not physically, not yet, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore. Now that he was very definitely having an ever growing pregnancy belly, he’d started to worry a lot about the baby’s health. That led him to thoughts not just about how he himself moved or rested, but also what he ate and how his own stress level was changing. He’d even been tempted to start a bullet journal about it all, before first Ciri and then Emhyr had stern talks about it with him.

The last two months had passed in a stressful haze. There had been a lot of changes to his routines. First and foremost, he and Ciri had started to spend a lot more time at Emhyr’s instead of their apartment. That had been the biggest change, one Geralt was still getting used to. They were all trying, though. Geralt had to put up with a longer drive to work from the suburbs, but in exchange, the housekeeper Emhyr paid to clean once a week more than halved his responsibilities there. He mostly prepared breakfast each morning and unloaded the dishwasher when convenient. To be fair, he hadn’t noticed that they’d pretty much moved in already for the first two weeks, until Ciri pointed it out.

Emhyr seemed happy-ish about it all, as far as Geralt could tell. Geralt was still learning to parse how Emhyr expressed feelings beyond annoyed and so-annoyed-he’d-gotten-a-migraine. However, Emhyr managed to keep regular hours, even if those hours were much closer to eight to eight than nine to five. He didn’t sleep in his office when he had Geralt and Ciri to come home to. And to Geralt’s neverending surprise and delight, he still very much liked to cuddle at night.

And Ciri was extremely happy to get to have a family life with both her dads at the same time. True, she was also still wheedling Emhyr to allow her to move into the basement, but in her defense, she seemed to be getting closer. Emhyr had one night tried to convince himself out loud that it was inconvenient and completely failed. Geralt had found it very amusing. At this point, he was almost sure they’d let Ciri pick whatever room she liked, so they could turn her room into the nursery. It was on the same floor as the master bedroom. They could be out of bed and with the screaming baby within a minute. It was just so convenient.

The main incident of those two months had been the Saturday on which Ciri had invited a couple of her friends from school, with Emhyr’s permission. Only, Geralt had been able to tell pretty quickly that Emhyr hadn’t had thought through what it would be like to allow a group of teens in the house. In the end, Geralt had dragged Emhyr on a long walk to prevent an argument. Surprisingly, arguing in the park about only the gods remembered what had improved Emhyr’s mood enough he’d suggested they eat out and watch a movie. He even ordered Ciri and her friends pizza. They came back late enough at night to not see the state of the living room until Ciri was mostly done cleaning up the following morning.

And now it was a Saturday morning like any other in the past eight weeks. Geralt had woken up with Emhyr cuddled up against his back, a hand loosely draped around his chest. That alone was enough to make him consider going back to sleep. Ciri wouldn’t be up for another couple of hours. They could eventually have a quiet breakfast, just him and Emhyr, even if he went back to sleep first.

There was a weird feeling in his belly, though. One so light and soft he’d to concentrate on it to even be able to make sure he’d not imagined it after all. But then it repeated. It felt a little like a bubble bursting, or how Geralt always had imagined it must feel like to have butterflies in one’s belly. Only, he was quite certain that he’d never felt like that for Emhyr and had probably missed his chance there for good.

Careful not to wake Emhyr, he reached for the current book on pregnancies on his nightstand. He thought he’d read about that feeling some time recently… He didn’t even have to search much. According to the book, and he was inclined to believe it there, it meant that the baby was moving. It was still extremely small, so he couldn’t feel it very well, but that he could feel anything at all…

He put the book back and stroked a hand over his growing belly. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, emotionally speaking, about it. It was sort of weird to have another organism move inside of him. But at the same time, it was their baby, moving, like a healthy baby should, and there was an overwhelming happiness swelling inside his chest.

He’d promised he’d tell Emhyr when he was panicking about the pregnancy again. This felt like that kind of instance Emhyr had been talking about. He turned so he could nudge Emhyr awake and looked him directly in the eyes. 

“Good morning?” Geralt tried.

“Morning.” Emhyr’s voice was still rough from sleep. It hadn’t yet failed to make Geralt want to kiss him. “What is it?” Emhyr pushed Geralt’s hair back from his face.

“I think the baby’s moving?”

“Alright.” And if Geralt hadn’t been sure Emhyr was still half asleep he was now. Because he just kept petting Geralt’s hair for a couple of more moments. Then, he stopped. “The baby’s moving?” he asked.

Geralt nodded. A helpless smile broke across his face. “Pretty sure.” The smile turned sheepish. “It feels a bit weird.”

Emhyr smoothed a hand down Geralt’s cheek. “Weird bad?”

“Weird weird,” Geralt laughed. Laughing was much easier than panicking. 

Emhyr nodded. He was thinking before he spoke again. “Do you need anything to make it more bearable?”

“No.” Geralt swallowed thickly. “It’s a good thing, right? The little one should be moving.”

“But..?” Emhyr prompted. He was practicing being patient when they talked like this. He wasn’t very good at it yet. But the fact that he tried alone helped a lot, in Geralt’s book.

“Still weird.” Geralt pulled a face. “Guess it’s just now starting to sink in that it’s not my body alone anymore? There’s someone else in here, too.” He put his hand back on the tiny, but growing, baby bump. “Nobody ever told me I’d have to deal with that, too. The books are all about how happy the expecting mommy is. Not… well. How weird it is. How…” He flexed his fingers helplessly. “It’s like I’m giving up parts of myself. I never minded with Ciri, but she was four already and…” He faltered. “I’m a horrible omega.”

Emhyr tutted softly. “Not that I have a great range of experience, but I wouldn’t go that far.” A smile slowly dragged the corners of his mouth upward. “If I’d ever had any doubts about your motherly qualities, I’d have fought a lot harder over Ciri.”

“Ass,” Geralt snorted. But it did make him feel better to have Emhyr tell him that. Despite the wording. Emhyr trusted him and had confidence in him when he himself lacked it.

“You don’t have to deal with this alone.” Emhyr had gone back to petting Geralt’s hair. “We can always talk about this. I have to admit, I’ve felt calmer in your presence than I have in a long time. I want you to feel the same with me, if possible.”

“Alright.” Geralt tried to hide his face against Emhyr’s chest. “I keep having these little personality crisises… crisies?”

“Crises,” Emhyr supplied helpfully.

“That. Over my heats. Over the baby. Over being pregnant. I never had to… I never was so visibly an omega in my life.”

“It never was part of your identity,” Emhyr tried to help out.

“Yeah,” Geralt got out through a lump in his throat. “And I don’t… How should I… Confronting that is hard. I’m not sure I even want to.”

Emhyr hummed thoughtfully. His hand was gliding down Geralt’s neck, over his shoulders, following the curve of his back. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’d change much, if at all.”

“Thanks?” Half of Geralt’s mind was wondering what Emhyr was up to. Not that he minded the touch. But he wasn’t much in the mood to be fucked. Even though he’d probably let Emhyr if he wanted. Because his omega instincts told him to please his alpha. Fuck.

Suddenly, Emhyr shuffled back a little, making enough space so he could get his hand between them. He gave Geralt’s limp cock a slow stroke.

“Emhyr,” Geralt grumbled, not entirely sure whether he wanted him to stop or continue. It was better for his ego than getting fucked. Marginally.

“I’m wondering…”

“Can’t you do that without jerking me?”

“How kinky have you been with previous partners?” Emhyr asked.

“What?” The question was so unexpected Geralt had to think it over in his mind before he could even parse it. “What?” he repeated. “Why? I mean, not really? Not like I had any time for relationships with Ciri around and… what the hell?”

“I’ve merely remembered something and thought it might help in this case,” Emhyr went on, ignoring the shocked look on Geralt’s face. He didn’t explain the idea. Instead, he rolled over to get something from the nightstand on his side of the bed. He dropped the bottle of lube between them. 

Geralt stared at it as if it would be able to supply any answer. He hadn’t yet had any trouble getting wet with Emhyr. On the contrary, he felt like he’d been aroused almost constantly in Emhyr’s bed. One of the reasons he’d started staying over so often was that he really enjoyed the sex with Emhyr afterall.

“You are aware,” Emhyr began in a tone that was close to a disappointed sigh. “That this” He grabbed Geralt’s half hard cock again and jerked it once. “Is still fully functional?”

“Well.” Geralt could feel a mortified flush rising from his chest to his face. “I know I could probably, with a lot of luck, knock up a female omega? I think? High school’s been a while.”

Emhyr rolled his eyes at him. “What I meant was that you can get hard and stay hard for sex.” And there was an undertone in his voice that made Geralt listen up.

Emhyr wasn’t insinuating…? Was he?

“I want you to fuck me,” Emhyr whispered into Geralt’s ear. “If you’re fine with that, of course.”

Geralt uselessly opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. No wonder Emhyr had asked about kinks. That… that just wasn’t something… hell, if Emhyr’d asked him to tie him up and choke him, he’d been less surprised. Alphas didn’t get penetrated. Period. Especially not male alphas. Especially not by an omega. Fuck, even in the rare porn, it was only ever two male alphas doing something like that. 

Geralt swallowed against his suddenly dry throat. “I’ve never… does that even work?”

“It’s… been a while.” Emhyr shifted uncomfortably. “But it should work. I merely require more preparation than you.”

“You  _ sure _ ?” Geralt still had trouble wrapping his head around the idea. It did sound tempting in theory. But practically… “Wait.” A realization had finally made it through the haze of surprise. “You’ve done it before.”

“Yes.” Emhyr pulled a face that suggested he didn’t really want to discuss that part of it.

“But I thought you’d only ever… I mean. I am the second person you ever slept with, right?”

“It was her idea,” Emhyr snapped. “You met her. You met Callanthe, too. We were young! Do I really have to give you the details?”

“No.” Geralt was quite capable of imagining it all by himself. Callanthe had always expected an Alpha child and raised Pavetta accordingly. She’d also started to raise Ciri like her daughter, for the little time she’d had with her. The fact that Pavetta hadn’t turned out to be an Alpha had apparently had little impact on matters. The mental images Geralt’s sexual fantasy immediately came up with went straight to his suddenly very interested cock. “So, you let her fuck you with a strap-on?”

“Sometimes.”

“And you’d let me fuck you?”

“Not if you keep up like this,” Emhyr grumbled.

“What do I have to do?” Geralt picked the bottle of lube up. “How do we start?”

Emhyr rolled over on his belly with a sigh, head cushioned on his arms. “I’d prefer with a single finger.”

Feeling like he shouldn’t push Emhyr’s patience any further if he wanted this to get anywhere, Geralt sat up in the bed. He ran an exploring hand down Emhyr’s back. He paused for a moment before he reached the butt. Only for a moment though. He had permission. He could touch all he wanted.

Emhyr let out a little sigh when Geralt brushed his flat hand over his ass cheeks. It encouraged Geralt to grope more, something he’d never really done with anyone. Yet another first. One Geralt decided he liked immensely. It was okay to have his own desires here. He could please himself, too, not just his Alpha.

After a while, when the novelty had worn off just enough to continue, Geralt uncapped the lube with one hand. “Might be a bit cold,” he mumbled, just before squeezing a generous amount of it on Emhyr’s ass. Emhyr hissed at the contact.

Not to make him wait too long, Geralt scooped up some of the lube with one finger and pushed as much as he could down Emhyr’s crack to his hole. “Tell me if it hurts,” Geralt said, starting to push the well lubed finger into Emhyr. It went a lot less easy than Geralt had expected. Compared to Emhyr, Geralt suddenly felt like he was always very loose, especially when aroused. But his own cock was still hard and heavy between his legs, aching to be allowed inside another person.

Emhyr didn’t protest when Geralt started to move his finger in and out. Once that went easily enough, he carefully lubed up a second finger. Emhyr did protest the loss of something inside him, but was easily mollified when Geralt pushed two fingers back inside and started to fuck him with them. Emhyr was moaning into the pillow by the time Geralt added a third finger inside, pushing deeper every time he worked his fingers back in.

“Th-there,” Emhyr groaned after a thrust that’d hit something inside him that’d felt like a lump to Geralt. “Do that again!”

“This?” Geralt asked, stroking his fingers over the lump as best as he could. He got a drawn out groan in response. So he continued that for a while, feeling Emhyr loosening up around his fingers gradually, and eventually pushing back with each thrust.

“Enough.” Emhyr’s voice was breathy and a little shaky. “Enough. Inside. Now.”

Geralt pulled his fingers out, causing a hiss from Emhyr. While he was lubing up his cock, Emhyr struggled to get his knees under him and, once he’d succeeded, spread his legs wide enough to fit Geralt between them. Geralt’s heart was beating in his ears as he knelt behind Emhyr and then he held his breath as the tip of his cock pressed against Emhyr’s hole.

He had to bite back a very loud moan as he sank into the warm, welcoming flesh.

“Give… give me a moment,” Emhyr pressed out. Geralt could feel him flex around his cock. It was tight. He wasn’t even sure he could move just yet.

Geralt stroked Emhyr’s flank with the hand he didn’t use to keep his hips still. “Take.” He had to swallow to get the words out. “Take your time.”

Emhyr huffed. Geralt almost expected him to move out of nothing but spite. And yet he held still, his legs quivering slightly, his breathing labored. Slowly, the pressure around Geralt’s cock eased enough that he was sure he wouldn’t hurt Emhyr.

When he eventually started to move, he did so slowly, both because he himself liked to be fucked like that in the beginning, and to watch for any sign of discomfort from Emhyr. With only the tip still inside, Geralt paused to catch his breath. His consciousness had given up on trying to understand what he was doing. It felt  **good** . That was what mattered.

Just as slowly as before, he pushed his hips forward again, making sure Emhyr felt every inch of him inside. He kept the pace consciously slow for the beginning, knowing perfectly well how good the drag, the friction, of being fucked slowly and carefully felt. It was never good enough for an orgasm, sure, but it was amazing for the sheer pleasure of it.

After a while, Emhyr started to move in counter to him, following the pace Geralt was setting. Every time Geralt pushed all the way in, he’d let out a tiny grunt that sounded almost like a moan. It took a while, but eventually Geralt found the lump from before again. The first time he hit it on accident, it startled a moan out of Emhyr. He even pushed back against him more. Geralt grabbed Emhyr’s hips with both hands, making sure he’d be hitting the same spot over and over again.

He could smell how aroused Emhyr was. It made Geralt ache to be fucked himself, to submit to his alpha. But at the same time he ached to keep going, to keep making Emhyr feel this good, to please him this way. And, to allow himself this form of pleasure, too. This was so much better than jerking off or being jerked off or even the one time Emhyr had held him down and sucked him off.

Sweat was dripping from Geralt’s nose onto Emhyr’s back and he leaned forward to lick it back up, planting kisses and more licks in a trail to Emhyr’s shoulder. He kissed him there, on his neck, behind his ear, where ever he could reach, the same way Emhyr would kiss him during sex. Somehow, that had always been the most intimate part of it all for Geralt. And it still was when he was the one doing it. He was allowed to. Like Emhyr was. Like a complete equal.

Geralt swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat blocking the air from his lungs. Maybe he’d really come to love Emhyr these past months. The realization was heady, almost overwhelming.

And then Emhyr moved against him and he remembered what they were doing, what he was supposed to do, how close he was to orgasm. He forced himself up again, allowing himself to thrust deeper and harder and faster, to chase after his release. Emhyr was moaning into a cushion with each slam of Geralt’s hips. There was a growing wet spot of precum under his leaking cock. Geralt could feel how wet he himself was. If Emhyr didn’t come from this, maybe there was a chance they’d switch, that Emhyr would do everything Geralt had done to him, and more. The thought of that made Geralt’s hips stutter.

His head was swimming in an ocean of pleasure so deep he didn’t even realize he was coming at first. That he was coming inside his alpha. Whom he had been fucking. The shock of the thought made him pull out while he was still coming, causing him to spill his seed over Emhyr’s ass as well as inside of it.

He was breathing heavily as he sat back on his haunches, staring straight ahead. He’d liked it. He couldn’t even deny to himself that he’d liked it. He shouldn’t, he really, really shouldn’t, but he wanted to do it again. It had been so good. And a big part of it had been because it was Emhyr. Whom he loved. A surprising lot.

Geralt wasn’t sure how long he’d been in that state when Emhyr took him in his arms and gently guided him to lie down. Instinctively, Geralt spread his legs. But Emhyr merely held him close.

“Are you alright?” Emhyr asked softly.

Instead of responding, Geralt took Emhyr’s face in both hands so he could kiss him, possessive and greedy and needy, like he’d wanted to do since halfway through the sex. He pulled and nudged and prodded until Emhyr got the hint to crawl on top of him.

Emhyr hissed when Geralt pressed himself against his still hard cock. Geralt had wrapped his arms around him, holding him as close as possible. He needed this now, he needed to be as close as possible. “Please,” he moaned.

Emhyr turned his head so he could mouth kisses on Geralt’s neck. “Doubt I’d last long right now,” he murmured. As if to betray his words, he jerked his hips.

Geralt spread his legs further. “Don’t care.” If he just angled himself right, Emhyr would probably just slip right in without them having to do much.

Despite Geralt’s protest, Emhyr pushed himself up on one hand. He brushed the hair out of Geralt’s face to look him in the eyes. “Are you sure?”

Geralt whined in the back of his throat. “I…” He gasped for breath. “I’ll make you… if you… don’t…” At least Emhyr allowed himself to be pulled down and into a tight hug again.

Emhyr kissed Geralt’s throat again, stifling a chuckle. “Alright, alright.”

They didn’t make it out of bed for another hour. Geralt was pleasantly aching all over by then, which made the warm spray of the shower even better. It hadn’t even taken much to get Emhyr to join him in the shower, something he almost never did. Right now, though, it seemed like Emhyr needed touch just as much as Geralt did.

Geralt stayed behind upstairs to tidy up the bedroom at least a little and open the window to air it. In the meantime, Emhyr would get the newspaper and make coffee. Emhyr was usually having sugar-free cornflakes or oats with fruit for breakfast, a habit Geralt had adopted, because it was just easier that way. Ciri refused to, insisting on colorful, sugar-ladden cornflakes, if she ate any breakfast at all. Geralt assumed there had been words about that in the past, by the way Emhyr sometimes looked at the cornflakes box but he decided it was better not to ask.

Breakfast was exactly like Geralt had expected. With the added bonus of raspberries in his cereal. When he commented on that, Emhyr looked over his section of the newspaper at Geralt, his eyes crinkling a little around the corners with a smile, and explained that Ciri’d once mentioned they were Geralt’s favorite. Which, to be fair, was true, but at the same time something he hadn’t expected Emhyr to know. And even less that Emhyr would go out of his way to remember. Geralt hid behind the newspaper until he was sure he wasn’t red in the face anymore.

Once they’d both read the newspaper, and finished eating, they moved to the living room. Geralt settled on the couch, aimlessly flicking through yet another pregnancy book. He’d checked out a lot on his last trip to the library, which made a sizable pile together with his own. There were a handful he’d bought because they’d been recommended and the two Emhyr had dug up somewhere, one about male omega pregnancies and another about the specifics of late first pregnancies. He hadn’t been reading much else in the past month. He doubted he’d read more than that and the journal on botany he got for work for months to come. At least once the baby turned eight or so, he’d know what was happening again.

Emhyr sat at the other end of the couch, browsing around on his tablet. It was quiet, calm,  _ nice _ even. Geralt loved that they could spend a Saturday morning like this. There was little better he could imagine.

“If Ciri clears out the cellar, she can have it as her new room,” Emhyr said suddenly.

Geralt put his book down. Emhyr was looking at him as if he wanted a response to that statement. Geralt frowned. “Set her a timeline or she’ll never do it.” He thought about it. It was as good a moment to ask as any. “The lease on our apartment is up at the end of September. Er… I don’t… I think I won’t be renewing it. If you’re, well, okay with that?”

Emhyr blinked slowly.

Geralt sighed. “I want to move in, officially, before the baby is born.” There, he said it. And it sounded a lot like an ultimatum.

“We really need to learn how to communicate better.” When Geralt dared to look at Emhyr, he was smiling. “I assumed you didn’t want to give up your own place.”

“So it’s okay?” Hope blossomed in Geralt’s chest. He couldn’t shove the feeling back down even when he tried. 

“More than,” Emhyr confirmed. “September…” He looked at Geralt critically. “That’s a little late. You’d be almost in your third trimester by then…”

Geralt put a hand on his belly. It would be difficult and annoying to have to move all their stuff when the baby was bigger. “We can do the actual move in mid-September? Or earlier?”

Emhyr hummed in agreement. “And I’ll tell Ciri that she’d have to clear the basement by the first of September if she wants it.”

“She’ll love that,” Geralt grinned. He wasn’t sure if the fluttering in his belly was the baby this time. “And it’ll give us time to set up the nursery.”

Emhyr hummed again. “Come here,” he said, lifting his arm in a silent offer. Geralt took it, snuggling up against Emhyr’s chest. “I was thinking,” Emhyr explained, showing Geralt his tablet screen. 

There was a floor plan of the house on it, with the rooms labeled as “kitchen”, “bathroom”, “bedroom”, and so on. A key on the side explained that blue meant Ciri, yellow Emhyr, red Geralt, orange was “parents” and green, the last color used, was “family”. Emhyr’d already colored in the basement in blue, the master bedroom on the second floor in orange, and most of the first floor, with the kitchen, dining and living room, in green.

“There’s still two rooms left that aren’t used as bedrooms,” Emhyr explained, pointing at the smallest room on the second floor and another smaller one on the first floor. “Would you like either as a home office?”

Geralt looked at the rooms, trying to remember the layout. The first floor room had its windows to the south, the one on the second floor to the east… Plus, on the first floor, there was a door directly to the backyard. Not a difficult choice for him then.

“First floor’d be easier to work in,” he concluded. “More natural light, see? Keeps the pet plants happier.”

“Pet plants?” Emhyr asked, amusement in his voice.

“Ciri term,” Geralt explained. “Pet plants are plants I keep for fun, not work. Work plants are called  _ the prisoners _ in Ciri.”

“Prisoners,” Emhyr repeated. “Oh dear.”

“Ever since she saw the controlled environment containers I built them when she was in elementary school,” Geralt sighed. “I did explain it was to make sure they got exactly the light, temperature and humidity I wanted and so I could track all those factors. But she insists on calling the boxes plant prisons. Still does.”

“Ah. Does that mean the plant trying to fully entangle your fridge is one of the pet plants?”

Geralt nodded.

“Ciri always made it sound like you worked at the zoo.”

“Which I do,” Geralt confirmed. “As a botanist.”

Emhyr hummed. “I simply assumed you were a zookeeper, but that makes much more sense.” He frowned at the screen. “How often do you bring work home? Hm, no. Better would be the question: would you like free reign over the backyard? I insist on keeping the gardening service to maintain the lawn and roses in front. The backyard, however, could be changed however you want.”

Geralt looked up at Emhyr with big eyes. A garden of his own, more or less. It was a dream come true.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Emhyr concluded when he got tired of waiting for a response. He colored the first floor office and the backyard red. “Alright.”

“Anything else?” Geralt tried to get the stupid smile off his face to no avail. He wanted to kiss Emhyr silly and would have tried, if it wasn’t so close to noon by now that Ciri could walk in any moment and groan her best annoyed teen groan at her fathers for that. “You got me in a really great mood and I’d probably agree to almost anything.”

“I think I will not make use of that, for now. I’ll keep the important question until the next time you’re thoroughly annoyed with me.” Emhyr still sounded amused though. “We could look at nursery furniture, if you’d like. Or find a birthing class to attend. It’s obviously been a while, but I found it rather helpful the first time.”

“Birthing class, huh?” It wasn’t like Geralt hadn’t been recommended taking one by his OB-gyn. All the books recommended one, too. But he’d been dragging his feet up to now, because he hadn’t been sure Emhyr’d come along with him. And because he was also a bit worried that it would be the same as the OB-gyn waiting room, but longer.

Emhyr opened the browser on his tablet. “I’ve been looking into it already,” he admitted. “There are a couple within reasonable distance, but I dismissed all that didn’t explicitly mention an openness toward male omegas. That actually narrowed it down to two, so you’ll have to choose between Monday or Wednesday evenings. Unless you object to either or both organizations.”

Geralt took the tablet and started to look at the open page. The words inclusive and open and judgement free were used quite a lot in the introductory section. There was also a whole other section dedicated specially to male omegas and their special needs compared to female omegas, as well as information on—as they called it—non-traditional, not male/female alpha/omega relationships.

The other page was almost the same, with added links for further reading on anything for anyone, but especially for male omegas or female alphas, on how to take care of themselves and a lot of other things the schools with their focus on, if anything, male alphas and female omegas forgot to cover.

Geralt swallowed. He’d really always thought… well, not exactly that there was something wrong with him, but it had been obvious that his body’d never been right. Boys, and later men, like him were supposed to be alphas. And if they weren’t, they were to keep their mouths shut and not bother anybody else with their… divergence from the norm.

“They both look good to me,” Geralt got out. “Could you… er, mail me the sites? I want to read more before I make a decision here.”

“Of course.” Emhyr slid his free hand into Geralt’s hair to comb through it. “You… must forgive me. I know this isn’t an easy situation for you. But, for me, reading has always been easier than talking. When I overstep, tell me.”

Geralt swallowed thickly. It was the hormones, he told himself. The pregnancy wasn’t just getting to him. He knew it was throwing off his body’s chemistry. Only knowing that didn’t make it any better. But maybe… “Half the time, when I’m alone, I wanna cry myself hoarse over nothing,” he blurted out, clutching Emhyr’s shirt. “Hell, half the time I’m not, I’m getting irritated at every little thing. I hate it. It was easier when I was just nauseous all the time.”

Emhyr scratched the base of Geralt’s skull. It felt good. Soothing.

“It’s like the little one has more control over my mood than I do myself.” Geralt sighed. “It’s exhausting.”

“Do you have any idea what might help you?” Emhyr asked.

Geralt shook his head. “No. I’ll just have to wait and hope it’ll eventually go away again. And… I’ve so little control over it, over myself, and I hate it. I hate it so much. It’s the worst part of being pregnant so far.”

“You don’t have to keep it together for me.” Emhyr went back to petting Geralt’s head. “Let me know when it’s hard.” He flexed his fingers. “You need to tell me things. Otherwise, I’m afraid I might treat you as I remember treating Pavetta without consideration for what you need.” There was raw emotion in Emhyr’s voice, the way it always got when he was talking about Pavetta. Geralt knew, more than anything else he knew about Emhyr, that he’d loved Pavetta. He couldn’t deal with that right now. An ugly jealousy had been rearing its head inside him lately whenever he was reminded of it.

“I’m not her,” he growled out. Then, he swallowed against the bile in his throat. Emhyr was being helpful. Or trying to, which was both so novel Geralt still counted it as equal. “You’re doing a lot to keep me happy-ish already. ‘s enough.”

“Geralt.” Emhyr sighed. He did his best to coax Geralt to turn around. “Look at me, Geralt.” When Geralt did, reluctantly and making sure that he was doing it because he wanted not because Emhyr ordered it, he found himself seized with two hands and dragged up so Emhyr could kiss his breath away. “I’m yours,” he growled into Geralt’s ears. It should not have sounded as soft as it did to Geralt. “One way or another, you’re stuck with me. And I’ve more than made my peace with that.”

“Bond me, then,” Geralt challenged in much the same tone. “During my next heat. Unless you’re really afraid of that.”

Emhyr caught Geralt by the collar to crash their mouths together again. Geralt was of half a mind to straddle Emhyr’s lap and egg him on until he’d drag him back upstairs.

Which was exactly when a gagging sound from the doorway made him look up. “Can you not,” Ciri groaned.

Geralt frowned at her over Emhyr’s head. She was wearing torn jeans and a crop top and what he considered far too much eyeliner. “Where’re you going like that?” he asked.

“To Cerys’ place,” she said dismissively. “I’ll be back tonight. Behave.” With that, she stomped off. 

“At least take a jacket!” Geralt called after her, just before she slammed the door. He sunk back down on the couch with a deflated groan. “Eleven, thirteen years from now, we’re going to have to do this all over again.”

“At least she told us where she’s going.”

Geralt raised his eyebrow. “She didn’t. I mean. Sure, she’ll meet up with Cerys at her place, but where they’ll hang out is anyone’s guess. I hope it’s the AnCraite garage, but it might just as well be the skatepark or the mall parking lot. She sprained her wrist doing skateboard tricks the other week. And then tried to hide it. Because I keep telling her to wear protective gear and she’s too stubborn to lis—why are you laughing?!”

Emhyr caught Geralt’s face again in his hands and kissed him. “I’ll remind you of this the next time you claim to be a bad parent.”

“Fuck you,” Geralt huffed. “I bet she’s only doing it to impress Cerys’ brother.”

“How much?” There was a glint in Emhyr’s eyes that told Geralt he’d just make a wrong play.

“She’s not? Wait, how’d you know?”

Emhyr smirked. “You need to monitor her online activity better. She’s liking a lot of Cerys’ posts and none of Hjalmar.” At Geralt’s shocked expression, he added, “Public profile, public likes. It’s not spying if she’s not hiding it. I do pretend not to know about her private socials.”

Geralt opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “She hasn’t told me!”

“I doubt she will. Don’t you remember your first teenage crushes?”

Geralt leaned against Emhyr. “She’s grown up too fast.”

“You can say that again,” Emhyr sighed. “I swear she was a child just yesterday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, from here on out, I'll post chapters as they are finished.

Two weeks later, Geralt still hadn’t told any of his friends that he was expecting. He was halfway through his pregnancy, had had ten weeks to think about how to break the news to them, and still hadn’t come up with anything. He didn’t want to tell them. There would be questions he didn’t want to answer.

Only, he couldn’t hide his belly much longer. It was starting to show. Lambert had already started to make snide remarks at work about how Geralt was finally developing a “dad bod” and had once poked Geralt in the belly hard enough Geralt’s knuckles had turned white in his effort to keep himself from punching his friend. They’d spent the next three days furious at each other and staying out of the other’s way. It was lucky the greenhouses and flowerbeds of the zoo were vast enough to allow it easily.

Yen and Triss were getting on his nerves by trying to drag him out for drinks. “Let Ciri have an evening’s peace,” they’d argue. He’d have agreed to watching a movie with them, well, with them both at least, no need to make Emhyr intentionally jealous by going out with either of his ex-girlfriends. But even movies usually turned into at least one empty bottle of red wine between the three of them and Geralt couldn’t bring himself to risk it.

He was dodging the invitations so much that Emhyr picked up on it. Emhyr even told him to go have a social life. The face he’d made when Geralt had responded he’d rather spend his evenings home with Emhyr had been both priceless and a little sad, because Emhyr clearly didn’t believe he was worth spending time with.

And now he was coming home Friday evening after a long week at work with too many irritating encounters with Lambert, tired and simply done with everything. At least there would be dinner soon. From the smell of it, Emhyr had been home for a while, and decided to cook something good. Which helped Geralt make a decision.

He put his work stuff down in his designated office. But instead of going immediately over into the kitchen, he stood in the dim room with his phone in his hand. They had agreed to ban phones from the dinner table. Mostly to stop Emhyr from working. But Geralt was also pleased that that rule forced Ciri to forego her phone for half an hour each day.

So, Geralt added Yen, Triss, Eskel, and Lambert into a chat group and sent a brief message: “I’m pregnant. 18 weeks. Ciri knows. The father knows. I’m happy. No, I don’t want to talk about it.” He reread it again. It covered everything he wanted to say. He took a deep breath through his nose and pressed send. 

On his way to the kitchen, he left his phone on the couch table.

Dinner was uneventful. Ciri was cheerfully divulging her weekend plans that seemed mostly intent on disturbing the peace of anyone within earshot of the AnCraite’s house. Her wrist had finally healed up, which she was all too happy to demonstrate to Geralt, looking smug. Not even Emhyr’s stern reminder that he’d ground her if her grades had slipped during the year could put a dampener on her mood.

Which was why Geralt was so surprised that she came stomping back into the kitchen not two minutes after she’d gone to her room. He’d barely had time to put down the pot he’d meant to load into the dishwasher before she thrust her phone in his face. At the distance of about an inch it was impossible to read what had upset her so. 

“Yen wants to know who the fuck knocked you up and if you require her to commit arson,” Ciri explained. “Do that yourself. Now. Yen said you’re not replying to her messages. I told her we’d just had dinner but I don’t think she’ll be patient with you. So if you don’t respond to her in the next five minutes, I will. In detail.”

“Arson?” Emhyr asked. He was wearing a guarded expression. Geralt remembered faintly that he’d met Yen before and that it’d been hate at first glance. Yen had been furious on Geralt and Ciri’s behalf back then and she still hadn’t forgiven Emhyr.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, father,” Ciri lied.

Emhyr sighed. “Geralt, go tell her not to, please. I can clean the kitchen on my own.”

Effectively cut off from his only excuse for dragging it out, Geralt slunk off to the living room. Ciri, for some unfathomable reason, was trailing after him. She settled down in the arm chair, watching Geralt over the top of her phone. “They won’t be angry if you tell them,” she said softly. “They’re your friends. They like you. But they might be angry if you don’t tell them.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to tell them it’s Emhyr’s?” Gerald didn’t groan out loud. He wanted to. But it wasn’t a question he wanted to ask Ciri, not even rhetorically. Instead, he picked up his phone. There were a lot of unread messages from the new group. He didn’t bother reading any of them. Instead, he wrote: “Sorry. Dinner.” Then, because he felt a little bad for being such a coward, he added: “Ciri said I have to answer questions. So?”

It looked like every single one of his friends was typing, but the first two that arrived almost instantly were

Lambert:  what the fuck Geralt

Yen:  whose????

Geralt sighed. “Don’t be mad,” he typed as fast as he could.

Geralt:  please

Geralt:  It’s complicated

Geralt:  and also my fault

Yen:  pls tell us it wasn’t a 1nitestand

Yen:  u were in heat

Yen:  Ciri told me

Geralt: No but 

Geralt: look

Geralt:  I’m happy

Geralt:  but

Geralt:  please don’t be mad

Geralt:  it’s Emhyr’s. And before anyone asks, it was consensual. I started it. I was the one who didn’t want to use a condom.

Geralt:  I don’t need to hear that I’m a moron. I know.

Geralt paused. His head was spinning slightly. This stress couldn’t be good for the baby. He watched the various shocked reactions of his friends appear on the screen for a while. He didn’t really register what exactly they were saying. Yen’d written to him directly, offering to help murder Emhyr and raise Ciri and the baby with Geralt. It managed to make the corner of his mouth twitch up. Her concern was touching, really. And a little worrying. He wrote back to assure her Emhyr was treating him okay.

Triss:  He’s letting you keep your baby, right? He isn’t going to take it away from you later?

Geralt stared at the message. Had he been embarrassed and a little mortified before, anger was now warming his chest. After all, he was sure Emhyr wouldn’t… this wasn’t just an elaborate plan to… Emhyr couldn’t, just couldn’t, fake all this. He put his phone down and forced himself to breathe. In through his nose, out through his mouth. It wasn’t Triss’ fault. Half a year ago, it’d have probably been his first thought, too.

Ciri was watching him with a curious expression, he noticed belatedly. “Are you alright, dad?” she asked. Worry creased her brows.

“Fine,” Geralt rumbled. He had to force himself to unclench his jaw for that. That effort reminded him that he was, in fact, not fine and could probably do with a hug, on top of that. “You’re okay with this all, right? Me ‘n Emhyr, I mean.”

Ciri moved from the armchair to the couch and hugged him. “Of course. You’re both gross about it.” She nudged his shoulder with her head. “But I don’t remember you ever looking so happy with anyone. I love you, dad. I wouldn’t be on board if you weren’t happy.”

Geralt gathered her up in his arms and squeezed her into a hug. “Thanks, Ciri. Love you too. More than anything.”

“Don’t let my little sibling hear that I’m the favorite,” she laughed, putting her hand on Geralt’s stomach. “They might get jealous.”

“I’ll remember that.” Geralt ruffled Ciri’s hair. With his other, he finally answered Triss.

Geralt: I’m 100% he will

Geralt: Not a question

Geralt:  He’s been really decent about it all so far

Geralt: Even takes me to the doctor

Geralt: It’s too early to say

Geralt: But the last two months have been good w/ him

Geralt: Raising Ciri’s gotten easier together, too

Geralt: I don’t always have to be the bad guy on the everyday stuff anymore ;)

Yen: He’s good at being the bad guy

Yen: Do I get to give him a shovel talk?

Yen: PLEASE

Lambert: Yeah make sure he knows he’ll be poisoned if he hurts you

From there, Geralt watched the conversation devolve into a discussion on the merits of different poisonous plants. He looked up when he heard Emhyr’s quiet steps. Ciri had withdrawn to the other end of the couch, knees pulled up, and gaze glued to the phone she was holding in both hands.

“All good?” Emhyr asked when he stood behind Geralt. He put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently. “Or should I be afraid that Yennefer will set something or some _ one  _ on fire?”

“I think she’s past that,” Geralt assured him. He’d put his hand over Emhyr’s in an attempt to keep him in place for a moment. He needed the emotional support. “But I wouldn’t eat anything she offers if I were you.”

“Noted.” Geralt could hear the smile. Instinctively, he turned his head. He’d more felt than seen Emhyr bend down so he could kiss him. He met Emhyr halfway, chasing after his lips as they broke apart again. He barely noticed the flash. 

Emhyr did. “Cirilla,” he said reproachfully. At least his hand was still on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I thought it’d help your case.” Ciri sounded defensive. So at least she knew she’d done something wrong. “Show Yen that you’re sweet with each other. And uncle Lambert. They worry about dad. Because of your… history.”

“Reasonable,” Emhyr admitted after a brief pause. Then, after another pause, he added, “You’re not in trouble. This time.”

“Does that mean I can send the pic?”

Geralt could practically hear Emhyr roll his eyes. He patted the hand on his shoulder. “Send it to me, I’ll make sure they see it,” he said. “Better to come clean before I ask anyone for their help with the move.”

Ciri’s eyes widened in surprise. Belatedly, Geralt realized that, while he’d talked a lot about logistics with Emhyr, they hadn’t actually told Ciri yet. The sudden pang of guilt and of fear she might protest vanished when she broke into a wide grin. “So Geralt gets to move in with you officially, father?”

“And you, too.” Emhyr cleared his throat. “That is to say, if you empty the basement, either by moving the things down there to the attic or selling off those we won’t need anymore, by the end of your summer holiday you may have it as your new room.”

Ciri actually shrieked at that. Emhyr clearly hadn’t expected her to be as happy as she was about it, especially not that she’d jump up on the couch and enthusiastically fall around his neck for it. He was spluttering something that sounded like a reprimand about standing on the couch, but he did hug her back. 

“I gotta tell Cerys,” Ciri declared when she’d finally let go, much to Emhyr’s visible relief. Geralt grinned at him. Emhyr scowled in response. “Night, dad. Night, father. Don’t be too loud!” She’d snatched her phone back up while she had been talking and was almost out of the room when she’d finished. Geralt could hear her rush up the stairs two at a time.

“Don’t be too loud…” Emhyr muttered as he finally settled into the couch next to Geralt. “The cheek. I don’t remember ever being this brazen with my parents.” He sighed. “I can be irritated at her while I’m also glad that she doesn’t fear me, right?”

“I think that’s the essence of raising a teen,” Geralt snorted. He knew the feeling. The frustration of not being obeyed without question battling with the gigantic relief that his daughter didn’t have to fear punishment for having a mind of her own. “I decided it means I’m doing an ok job raising her to be her own person.”

“Hm.” Emhyr pulled Geralt closer, apparently looking for physical comfort. Geralt settled against him, looking at the picture Ciri had just sent him. It wasn’t half bad. You couldn’t really see either of their faces, but the awkward position they both were in made up for that with gentleness. It could actually work as Ciri’d intended.

“I missed too much with her,” Emhyr suddenly declared. “And I don’t understand why she isn’t more angry with me.”

Geralt snorted. It was obvious to him why. But it wasn’t something Emhyr would consider. “She loves you.” The dubious look Emhyr shot him in response was actually better than what Geralt had expected. It was no outright disbelief. “And she knows she can depend on you. Because you love her, too.”

“Whatever gave her that idea…”

Geralt forced himself to sit up. He wanted to look Emhyr in the eyes for what he was about to say. Because it was something they’d eventually have to talk about. Because Emhyr needed to know. Because he could still not explain it any other way than the one he had.

“Remember, when we first met outside that judge’s office?” Geralt began slowly. It was hard not to get helplessly angry when that feeling was so tied up with the memory. He hadn’t felt anything else in months back then. There just hadn’t been any room for other feelings most of the time. “Your lawyer kept sending letters before and you’d made it so so clear that you fully intended to take Ciri away from me…” His hands were shaking so he held onto one with the other. “And then you saw her for the first time and suddenly, there was no more talk of that. At all. Your lawyer was so flustered about it. Like you’d changed your mind on the spot. And in the evening, I had to explain to Ciri what the hell happened and why the scary man hadn’t taken her away from me and all I could come up with was… well. You love her. You want her to be happy. And you can see that she’s happy with me. ...or was I wrong?”

Emhyr’s expression was somewhere between grief and regret. He shook his head. “She was clinging to you for her life. She was crying so much. And I knew I couldn’t… I could never… I already had hurt her more than I ever wanted to in that moment. Wrangling an equally shared custody out of it was more than I deserved and less than you did.”

Geralt shrugged. “I never minded that too much. But I was afraid, all the time, that you’d suddenly change your mind again. Every time I dropped Ciri off for the weekend, I was terrified you’d just keep her.” He’d started fidgeting with his hands. He stared at them. This was it. He’d have to say it eventually, before they’d reached a point in their relationship when it was too late. “Even this year. When she called you about my heat. I was convinced that that would be it. The final straw. Because I was a helpless Omega out of his mind and unfit to raise a child.”

To Geralt’s surprise, Emhyr cupped his cheek. He dragged his eyes up to meet Emhyr’s gaze. “Geralt,” Emhyr pronounced slowly. “There is no one, not anyone, in the world I’d rather have raising Ciri. Both with and independent of me.” The hint of affection twinkled in his eyes. “Rather with you, as long as you’ll have me. And nothing, especially not a completely normal, temporary change of your body, will change that. You are a good father to Ciri. You will be a good father to the baby. You care. You put her first. Something I couldn’t always do. Something I’m glad I don’t have to always do, because I can rely on you. Even if our relationship ever changes again, that will not change to be true.”

Geralt swallowed. He wanted to believe Emhyr. Desperately so. “I… sorry. Thank you.” He leaned into the hand on his cheek. “Might not manage to believe you just yet. But I want to.”

Emhyr kissed his forehead. “I’ll admit we still have a lot of work to do between us. But I want this to work out. I am ready to put in the work, if you are, too.”

Geralt nodded slowly. “If any of my friends asks, though, we’re head over heels in love,” he joked. 

“That requires little acting on my part.”

“Right.” Geralt snorted. “Because even sick with love you’d still look calm and collected.”

“Because it’s not too far from the truth.” Emhyr dropped his hand. “You meant to send that picture Ciri took to your friends,” he added helpfully, as if he hadn’t just admitted he was deeply in love with Geralt. 

Thankful for the break, Geralt glanced over at his phone. He picked it up. There were at least no new messages reminding him how much pain Emhyr’d caused him in the past. He loaded the picture in the group chat, adding “Our teenage paparazzi took this. It’s not much to prove anything. But I’m content, damn it.” before he sent it.

He looked over to Emhyr, who’d picked up a book to read, and smiled. Content. That was one word for what he felt, and a damn good one. He’d never wanted to be more than that. He had what he’d always wanted: Warmth, safety, and engaging conversations. And he could have it, here and with Emhyr and Ciri. Their family merely had gotten a bit closer and a lot more peaceful.

“If anyone wants to help me move out of my apartment some weekend in September, let me know,” he typed. Then, he turned his phone off. His friends’ responses could wait until the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

As was tradition, on the last day of school before the summer break, Geralt took half a day off to come pick Ciri up. She was already waiting for him in a throng of teens, all very busy signing each other’s yearbooks and tearfully promising to keep in touch during the holidays. Cerys was standing next to her and nudged her when she spotted Geralt’s car. They both said goodbye to everyone around, which took another full five minutes. Not that Geralt had been staring at the clock the entire time.

“Dad, hi,” Ciri greeted as she opened the back door of the car. She was breathless, but radiating happiness. “Can we drop Cerys off at home?”

Geralt looked at the girls in the mirror. Heck, why not. “Cerys, we’re getting ice cream to celebrate the end of the school year. You’re welcome to come along, if your parents are ok with that.”

“They don’t mind,” Cerys assured him suspiciously quickly. As if she and Ciri had already decided she’d come along. Geralt shot his daughter a long hard look. Ciri smiled back at him, a little too innocently.

Geralt let out a sigh. “Hop on in.” He knew he was beaten here. 

“Is Father coming, too?” Ciri asked from the back seat. Apparently, sitting close to Cerys was more important than the shotgun privilege. “I did tell him this was tradition.”

“Yes, and he said that he had a lunch meeting,” Geralt reminded her. 

“He could have a lunch meeting with us,” Ciri almost pouted. “And ice cream.”

Geralt wanted to say “We’ll make him keep the afternoon free next year.” But years of experience had taught him to never promise Emhyr’d do anything. It was better to expect nothing and be pleasantly surprised when he did something decent by other people’s standards. 

Instead, he simply said, “You know how he is.” Which wasn’t entirely fair, because Emhyr was trying to change, at least a little. But work had always come first for him and while he might have wanted to change that, he had managed to accumulate people’s expectations regarding that. It wasn’t like it wasn’t known that he had a daughter. It was just expected of him to have somebody else deal with that most of the time. 

Ciri glared at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?”

“He makes time for the baby,” Ciri pointed out. 

That one hurt, mostly because it was true. Geralt couldn’t even deny it. He hadn’t had to go to the OB-gyn alone yet. Which he wanted to explain away as being different, but it really wasn’t. Not to Ciri at least. 

He didn’t want to fight about it in front of Cerys, though. Despite the fact that she probably heard all about anything that irked Ciri anyway. “Ciri, can’t we discuss this at home?”

She just glared at him some more. “I’m texting him again!”

Geralt sighed. He sighed some more at the sympathetic look Cerys was shooting him. For the rest of the drive to the diner, Ciri vehemently stayed silent. Geralt pulled out his phone the moment he’d parked the car. He’d meant to text Emhyr, but Emhyr had already texted him. Well, texted was a generous term. He’d sent a screenshot of a route in a navigation app. Cryptic as usual. Geralt squinted at the image. The destination was the diner he was standing in front of, starting from Emhyr’s office.

Geralt shot Ciri a sideways glance. He smiled. Seemed like she’d gotten her way after all. “Got the right address,” Geralt quickly texted back. “Should I order for you?”

“Be there in 10 minutes. Lemon.” Were the responses.

Geralt rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. Never let it be said Emhyr said a word too many when he didn’t need to.

“C’mon, girls, let’s get inside,” he said out loud, shooing them with both hands. Ciri shot him the kind of glare she employed when she was trying not to laugh. Cerys was laughing at him outright. They still went ahead inside, leaving it to Geralt to follow them. They managed to snag themselves a booth at the windows. The girls immediately huddled over the ice cream menu, sitting close enough their shoulders brushed each time one of them moved. Geralt wasn’t entirely sure, but he had the feeling Ciri had her hand on Cerys’ tight.

“Ciri, do me a favor and find the most ridiculous lemon sundae they have,” Geralt said.

Ciri looked at him curiously, but she shrugged before she nodded and turned her attention back to the menu.

In the end, the ten minutes were almost over by the time they ordered. Geralt ignored the look on Ciri’s face when he told the waitress he’d be having the lemon sundae and a strawberry milkshake. The penny dropped a couple of minutes later when suddenly, her eyes widened at something she’d seen behind Geralt. He turned, spotted Emhyr by the door and waved him over.

Ciri tried her best to look upset at her father. It was impressive, Geralt had to admit. Only, she hadn’t gotten the eyes down yet. There was a spark there that Emhyr could hide behind walls of inner ice which she hadn’t yet build. She was getting there. But not yet.

Which was probably why Emhyr raised one eyebrow at her expression. “The lunch meeting was shorter than expected.” And Geralt was almost certain it was a lie but one he couldn’t prove beyond the gut feeling that Emhyr was lying. He moved over on the bench so Emhyr could sit down next to him.

“And you couldn’t have told me that when I texted you?” Ciri pouted. Cerys whispered something to her that made her frown. “Well, he could have. I hate surprises.”

“And here I thought my presence would please you,” Emhyr sighed. Geralt got the feeling he was trying to tease Ciri, in his own way. “Seeing as how you kept mentioning, persistently, that ice cream after the last day of school was a  _ family tradition  _ in which I should partake.”

Ciri couldn’t really argue with that. She still tried to. “Well, you still have to wait until later for my report card. I left my bag in the car.”

“I’m certain your grades will be quite acceptable.” Emhyr waved a hand dismissively. “Strangely enough, your teachers didn’t call me to talk all year.” He fixed her with a calculating look. “I wonder if you’ve gotten better at following rules or merely better at hiding when you break them.” The  _ and I will find out sooner or later  _ went unspoken. 

“Father!” Ciri protested. Cerys was leaning away from her, shaking with suppressed laughter. Ciri elbowed her which only made her laugh more.

“I see where you get it all from now, Ciri,” Cerys laughed.

“I’m nothing like him!” Ciri protested, gesturing at her father. “Nothing! I don’t even look like him.”

“Not true,” Cerys grinned. “I mean you got the hair and scowls from your dad, but the glares and eyes and the way of thinking is clearly your father.”

Ciri exchanged a brief look with Geralt. It wasn’t new that people assumed him to be related to Ciri by blood. But in this case, he’d thought Ciri would have told her that they weren’t. Because there were implications to that Geralt didn’t want to think about.

“I should hope Ciri was little like me,” Emhyr said evenly, saving Ciri and Geralt from having to correct the assumption about their relation. “I expect her to be better.” And he said that with such pride that it was clear that he already considered her to be a better person than he’d ever aspired to be.

The waitress saved Ciri from having to answer, or worse, deal with the revelation that her father was proud of her, right away. She was helped immensely by the shocked face Emhyr made when the waitress put down the sundae in front of him, at Geralt’s subtle pointing. Emhyr tried to be gracious about it, at least until the waitress had walked away from their booth. Then, he turned to Geralt with his best accusing glare.

“I thought you meant a lemon sundae,” Geralt said innocently. “You gotta be more precise next time.”

Emhyr opened his mouth, closed it again, frowned at the sundae and finally turned back to Geralt. “Sometimes, Geralt…” he sighed. 

Geralt grinned. “Sometimes you love me a little more?”

“That is… one way of putting it, yes.” Emhyr kept the sour look in place even as he put the first spoonful of sundae in his mouth. Under the table, he put his free hand on the inside of Geralt’s tight. “Would you at least help me with this monstrosity?”

Geralt scooped up a spoonful of the sundae and put it in his mouth with a happy sigh. “It’ll be a grave sacrifice but I’ll manage.”

On the other side of the table, Ciri groaned into Cerys’ shoulder. “See what I have to deal with? Every. Single. Day.”

“I’m so sorry for you,” Cerys replied, sounding not particularly sorry. She still petted Ciri’s hair with one hand. “It’s like watching a bad chick flick. You can’t look away no matter how saccharine.”

“Exactly,” Ciri moaned. “All day. Every meal. I can’t even go into the living room.”

“Cirilla,” Emhyr chided. Despite his lacking enthusiasm, he was eating his sundae. Geralt couldn’t even steal as much as he’d have liked. “It isn’t as common an occurrence as you make it out to be.”

“You just don’t notice it anymore.” Ciri stuck out her tongue at her fathers. “When you’re off in your own little world.”

Emhyr shook his head briefly. For a moment, Geralt thought he might comment on it further, but Emhyr was wise enough not to try. Ciri could argue even better than him, fuelled by the teenage certainty that she was always right despite any lack of experience or proof to the contrary. As far as Geralt could see, Emhyr’s biggest mistake was that he was trying to be logical about the arguments. Since Ciri didn’t bother to, it was doomed from the beginning.

“What did you plan to do with your summer?” Geralt asked, in a desperate attempt to change the topic. You had to stop Emhyr and Ciri arguing before they got competitive about it.

Cerys sighed theatrically. “My parents insist on summer school.” She nudged Ciri. “At least I’m not alone.”

Ciri smiled at her. “At least we get to spend those weeks together. Not sure how I’d cope without you!” She peered over to Emhyr. “Can’t our parents just send us to camp or something?”

“Your school’s summer program is better than any camp option I came across,” Emhyr noted. “Plus, it gives you time at home to clear and clean the basement. An unexpected side benefit.”

“Oh, yeah, I meant to ask.” Ciri stabbed the spoon into the melting remains of her own sundae. “You said something about selling stuff? Instead of throwing it out?”

Emhyr shrugged. “You do keep asking me for a raise in your allowance.”

Ciri turned to Cerys with a shine in her eyes. “Wanna spend a couple of days listing stuff online?”

Cerys laughed. “Sure. Any time.”

“As long as you both keep up with your studies,” Emhyr interjected. “But otherwise, you’re of course always welcome.”

Cerys nodded thoughtfully. To Geralt, it seemed like she took Emhyr’s approval as the treasure it was. There was no doubt in his mind that Ciri’d told her about Emhyr’s reaction to the last group of teenage visitors.

“Well, I think…” Cerys said slowly, looking very intentionally not at Ciri. “There’s three weeks around the end of July, beginning of August, when my parents would very much dislike that. They’re planning a family vacation. Visit our grandparents. That sort of thing.”

“Three whole weeks! That’s an eternity!” Ciri gasped. “And the time difference to your grandparents! How am I to survive that long without you?!”

“I’ll send lots and lots of pictures!” Cerys quickly promised. “And we’ll text. Of course we will.”

“You better.”

Ciri was very quiet by her standards for the rest of the time they all took to finish their ice cream. Geralt could tell there was something going on between her and Cerys, but he remembered being a teenager well enough to not try to meddle or worse, simply say something. So he leaned against Emhyr’s side to better steal from his sundae.

“Cirilla,” Emhyr said suddenly after he’d put his spoon down and subtly pushed what remained of his sundae in front of Geralt. “Would a family vacation of our own brighten your mood again? I’m sure Geralt and I could find a fortnight in our schedules we could both take off. I’d let you decide where, on the condition that you do take Geralt…” He paused for just a heartbeat, clearly not sure how to continue now that Geralt knew what to pay attention to. “...into account. That means no long distances.”

“Two weeks?” Ciri looked up from her empty bowl. She was clearly surprised by the mere idea of a vacation. Geralt had never taken her on any that wasn’t work related. He’d been too worried that he’d run out of vacation days he’d need for emergencies. And Emhyr didn’t take vacations. That had been fact. At least until now. “Two whole weeks?” Ciri repeated. “No work?”

The corner of Emhyr’s mouth twitched slightly. “You can pick a cabin in the woods without cell phone reception if you don’t trust me on that.”

Ciri narrowed her eyes. But instead of arguing, she simply said: “I’ll think about it.”

They left soon after. Geralt didn’t even notice that Ciri was lagging behind until he reached his car and she wasn’t there. A quick look around the small parking lot solved that problem. Ciri had trailed Emhyr and was now quietly talking to him by his car. Whatever it was about, it ended with her hugging him long enough that Emhyr even had time to come around to the idea that PDA were sometimes fine between parent and child.

Ciri watched Emhyr drive off in silence, an unreadable expression on her face. Instead of getting into Geralt’s car right away, she rummaged through her bag to hand Geralt her report card. “Can I stay at Cerys’ tonight?”

Geralt looked at the report card. As expected, Ciri had managed to keep straight As. Not that Geralt had been worried. But Emhyr’d been, even if he hadn’t said so directly. “Sure.” Geralt shrugged. “Tell you what, I’ll stop by at home so you can grab your stuff and then drop you both off at Cerys’.”

Ciri shook her head slowly. “I think. I think I wanna walk today, dad.”

“Alright.” Geralt sighed. He didn’t know what to make of Ciri’s current mood. All he could hope was that it’d be gone the next day. “You tell me if you need anything will you?”

“Of course, dad.”

It was late in the evening when Emhyr came home that day. Geralt had expected it. The time he’d taken out of his schedule to spend with his family always had to be made up later. It was the same after any of the OB-Gyn appointments to which Emhyr came along. 

Geralt had used the evening alone to tend to his plans and type up some of his scribbled notes into a more coherent document. It was more work adjacent than actual work, he told himself while he did it. If it were work he wouldn’t just think about how he’d get his current prisoner to reproduce but set up actual experiments.

He was doodling around, figuring out how exactly he should set everything up, when he heard the front door open and close. The rustle of clothes followed, along with the soft noise of shoes being neatly placed. Geralt turned to the door of his office when he heard the footsteps stop.

Emhyr looked tired. More so than usual when he was getting home late. There was something drawn about him. “There’s no other light on in the entire house,” he said, a little raspy.

“Er, sorry?” Geralt didn’t really know how to react to that statement. “I was working. Kinda. And I didn’t need any other lights?”

“Where is Ciri?”

“Hm? Oh. She’s sleeping over at Cerys’. I thought she told you.”

Emhyr shook his head slowly. “She didn’t.” He looked around the room for a long moment, avoiding Geralt entirely. “I’ll be in the living room,” he finally declared, his voice a little more stable again. And with that, he turned and walked away.

Geralt looked down at his desk. Then at his workbench with the plants. Nothing that wouldn’t keep until the morning, he decided. Right now, he wanted to find out what was wrong with Emhyr. That seemed the most pressing issue.

He found Emhyr sitting in the armchair. It hadn’t even been two minutes, but he’d picked up a book. Geralt watched, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting for, exactly. Maybe for Emhyr to look less like he was trying to shut himself off from the entire rest of the world. Or at least admit that he was not reading a word in the book.

With a sigh, Geralt sat down at the edge of the couch. “What’s wrong?”

Emhyr put the book down and looked at him. He licked his dry lips. Swallowed. He didn’t even try to deny that something was wrong. Geralt had learned from years and years with Ciri that that was a bad sign. Something was seriously wrong. With a voice so small Geralt had to strain to hear it, Emhyr finally said: “I thought you were gone.”

“I would’ve told you if I were.” Geralt tried to smile. “Trust me, I’ll not leave quietly if I do. You know I like a proper fight. So, why?”

Emhyr shook his head slowly. “Something Cirilla said earlier. For a moment, when I didn’t see any lights on in the house, it appeared like her words had been prophecy, not confession.” He completely failed at smiling. “I’d completely forgotten I’d seen your car in the garage a moment earlier.”

Geralt blinked. There were still pieces of the puzzle missing for him before he could see a proper picture. It was all the edges, but nothing of the inside yet. So he asked: “What did she say?”

“That I didn’t have to try so hard with her.” Emhyr rolled his eyes. “And…” He paused. Licked his lips again. Swallowed. “And that she…” He had to swallow again, against the lump audibly blocking his throat. “That she still worries every time I get in a car without her. Not that I might leave… well, maybe that too… but that something might happen.”

And just like that all the pieces fell into place and showed the entire picture.

“When Pavetta died, Cirilla lost her mother. And me, in a way.”

Right. As much as Geralt didn’t want to hear about her. As much as he really didn’t want to talk about it. He still knew how much it had scarred Ciri to lose her parents like that. First her mother had died in a car crash. And then her father had disappeared. 

In hindsight, Geralt even saw the signs he hadn’t been able to see back then. The way Emhyr hadn’t even been able to look at Ciri, let alone touch her before and at the service. He should have stopped him from taking Calanthe’s offer that she’d look after Ciri for a few days. 

Back then, he hadn’t known Emhyr didn’t have any family. Nor any friends he could have turned to. He’d been his friend’s husband. He hadn’t mattered to Geralt the way his friend Pavetta had and certainly not as much as his goddaughter Ciri had. But when Emhyr vanished without so much as a trace, he helped file the missing person report, even though he’d silently agreed with the officer when they suggested a suicide wasn’t unlikely. It had fit too well.

For months, four year old Ciri had cried as if the world was about to end every time Geralt wanted to get in his car after a visit. Eventually, Geralt had learned to park his car around the corner where she couldn’t see. Her grandmother had started to send her to a grief counselor which had made it better over the time. Geralt had kept that up after Calanthe’s early death until Ciri had decided she didn’t want it anymore.

It had been so hard on her, he had never found the time to properly grieve himself.

“Ciri said the only vacation she remembers was with me and her mother,” Emhyr said, dragging Geralt back to the present. “And that you never took her on any normal vacation. Not that I did, either.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard finding enough time and money to take a kid on vacation when you’re raising her all on your own,” Geralt tried to defend himself, thankful for the change in topic. “She liked running through the woods for days.”

That at least made Emhyr smile fondly, even though tears still shimmered in his eyes. “She very proudly showed me her collection of dried and pressed mosses after one of those vacations. I’m not sure a ten year old should know the term herbarium or be excited about filling one.”

“She could be a great botanist already if she wanted to,” Geralt smirked. He couldn’t help the relief washing over him. If they could talk about this, they could avoid talking about Pavetta. And he desperately wanted not to talk about her. “Do you want to listen to me think about multiplying rare plants? We got a new one the other day and don’t quite know how to go about conservation yet.”

“Please.” Emhyr moved to the couch and made himself comfortable. He sounded as relieved as Geralt felt. “Strangely, I’d love nothing more.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C/N:  
> Discussions of the death of a loved one  
> Suicide mention(s)  
> Mental illness

Geralt managed to avoid the topic of Pavetta for eleven whole days. To his relief, Emhyr did seem to want to not talk about it just as much as Geralt did. But Ciri kept looking at him during dinner sometimes, like she wanted to say something, but then she always looked at Emhyr and down on her plate and said nothing. Luckily for Geralt, between Cerys and all her other friends, Ciri spent little more time at home than to eat dinner and sleep.

She slowed down a little in the second week. With summer school fast approaching, she declared that she had to start clearing the basement soon or she wouldn’t have time for it. She also kept mailing Emhyr vacation ideas complete with her sales pitch and links at all odd hours which seemed to amuse him.

So Ciri started to spend time in the basement, sorting through boxes and all the odds and ends there. Some she’d carry up to the attic, others she kept in two piles by the stairs. They’d eventually have to take down the metal shelves when she was done, Geralt knew. He had a hard time imagining Emhyr doing it, but he was more and more convinced he couldn’t do it anymore once Ciri was done. He could help. But he couldn’t do the heavy lifting. 

Ciri was doing a lot of work and quite some swearing in the basement, so when he walked by the open basement door one evening and didn’t hear anything, he had to check on her. He found her sitting in front of an open box full of photo albums, looking through one of them. She was sobbing softly.

“Ciri?” Geralt asked cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes with her forearms. “Dad?” Her voice was breaking with tears. She swallowed. “What was my mother like? What do you remember of her?”

“Why don’t you go and ask your father?” The sentence was out of Geralt’s mouth before he even had time to think about it. He regretted it instantly. She wouldn’t have asked if she hadn’t wanted him to tell her. She needed him. And he was trying to push her away.

“I don’t need to ask him.” She brushed a hand over one of the photos so carefully as if she was afraid it might disappear if she pressed down too hard. “I think I know. I want to hear what you remember. You were friends, right? What was she like when she was my age?”

Geralt sat down next to her on the cold floor. They’d have to lay down carpet to make the room liveable, he thought in a desperate attempt to not think about the present moment.

Ciri showed him the page she’d been looking at. Two photographs of her parents, both not even twenty yet. One in front of a cinema, dressed up for a date. One on the porch of Callanthe’s house.

Geralt pointed at the porch photograph. “I took that,” he said slowly. “They weren’t even dating for three months yet. But your mother insisted. She knew from the first day she met your father.” Geralt swallowed. His eyes were suddenly burning with tears. “She knew from then they’d be together for the rest of her life. It was like… ugh, you can see it here. She always looked like the sun had suddenly started to shine in his presence.” He choked out a laugh. “She started dating your father before I ever had a girlfriend and I was mad as hell at her for it. Well. For about two minutes. After that I was happy she was happy, no matter how obnoxious. She was the kind of person you just had to like. Kind, helpful, fierce sense of justice. A little headstrong. A lot like you sometimes.”

He didn’t even realize he was crying until the first tear hit the book. “We met in middle school,” he went on. “Or rather, got to know each other then. We grew up in the same neighborhood. And then your grandma hired me to mow her lawn and help around the garden one summer. So we became friends. Didn’t go to school together til high school though. Spent a lot of time hanging out before, spent even more time together after.”

Ciri leaned against him as she turned the page over, mindful of the thin, opaque paper protecting the photographs. She gently touched her mother’s face on the next photograph, from their senior prom. The blue dress and the skillfully styled hair with the little shiny faux-sapphires teased into it made her look like a princess. “How did they meet?”

“Open campus day at the college during our senior year.” Geralt shrugged. “We went because it was that or school. Both knew already what we wanted to study. Bumped into a preppy pre-law kid on our way to find lunch. Your mother talked at him until he capitulated and showed us a student café. She made him let her buy him lunch. Which was definitely a ploy because she spent the entire time needling him about everything she could think of. I almost felt bad. In the end, they exchanged numbers. And mind you back in those days that meant landline. Almost nobody had a cell phone yet.”

“And that was father?”

“Ack. No.” Geralt pulled a face. “But the guy invited Pavetta to a house party. I still dunno what Emhyr was doing there, but he hated the party as much as Pavetta. From what she told me, at six am on the sunday right after, they spent the entire evening hiding from the party together and then ditched it to go have burgers at the dead of night. God my dad was pissed at the phone ringing. From then on, it was basically impossible to catch your mom alone outside of school. She dragged him along every time we wanted to hang out.” Geralt shrugged. “I was a little jealous, really, at least until I met Yen in college that fall.”

“You and father went to different colleges,” Ciri said as she turned another page. It was again a single large picture, this time showing a group of teens on the night of their senior prom. Pavetta had an arm around Geralt and holding Emhyr’s hand on the other side. She was beaming at the camera. Geralt didn’t really remember much of that night but he had felt incredibly uncomfortable then. Not just because of the cheap polyester suit. But also because most of his friends had dates and he hadn’t even tried to get one himself. Pavetta had asked him to come anyway. And so he’d gone. He didn’t even remember most of the other kids in the pic. They hadn’t stayed in touch after graduation. “Where did mom go for college?”

“With your father. By accident, mostly. She’d already applied for colleges and scholarships before they even met.” He smiled down at Pavetta in the picture. “She always claimed it had to have been serendipity or fate. They moved in together in their sophomore year. I only saw her during the breaks then and we didn’t find time to call each other as much, either…” He had to interrupt himself so he could stifle a sob. “But she sounded happy every time. Looked happy, too. Radiant, even. And she did make time for me when I needed her. Always.”

Ciri moved to the next page, a picture of her parents, taken by the photographer the school had hired for prom night. They looked like any other couple that age. Geralt wondered if Ciri would look even more like her mother in a similar dress. “Father looks so different in these,” she said, laughing a little. “I didn’t know he had curls when he cut his hair shorter. Or that he could smile with his whole face. Look, he even color coordinated his tie with mom’s dress.”

“You have wavy hair, too,” Geralt reminded her. He peered into the box because a colorful cover had caught his eye. He remembered that one. Pavetta had put it together. He’d even helped pick some of the pictures, while Emhyr’d been too busy with his last year of law school. There were small patches of what looked like water damage, but Geralt was too focused on finding a certain picture than to worry about the cover much.

He held the picture up at Ciri when he’d found it. Ciri, age two, her face framed by a halo of almost white blonde hair, waving at the camera from on top of some playground structure. Below, in Pavetta’s neat, loopy handwriting, was the note “Ciri climbed the slide alone” and a date in fall of 2007.

Ciri shrieked softly as she snatched the album from Geralt’s hands. “Are those baby pictures of me that mom took?” She flipped back to the beginning of the book. It opened with a polaroid of Ciri, minutes old and still very rumpled from birth. Above, in big calligraphy, Pavetta had painted Ciri’s full name. Below it, she’d written the time and date of birth. There was also Ciri’s little plastic ID armband from the hospital stuck to the page. 

“Loved from the very first minute,” Ciri read, her voice breaking. She brushed her fingertips over the words.

Geralt pulled her against his chest with one arm and the albums out of harm's way with the other. Ciri was pressing her face against his chest as she cried. He cried with her, because he, too, had loved her from the first moment he met her. Because her mother had undoubtedly loved her incredibly much the entire time they had together. Because he missed Pavetta so much, after eleven years; he still missed her as if she’d died only yesterday. He hugged Ciri tight.

“I love you, so so much,” he pressed out. “I loved your mother so much, too. I can’t imagine life without you, but…” And the but made him feel like he was somehow betraying his daughter. Even if he didn’t mean it like he didn’t want her to be his daughter. “But I wish she hadn’t died. I miss her. I miss her every day, every time any little thing reminds me that I can’t tell her about it anymore. She’d be so proud of you. She’d still love you so much.”

“Dad…” Ciri started, but didn’t go on from there. She just sobbed and buried her face back against Geralt’s chest.

“She said…” Geralt had to swallow but he wanted to tell Ciri and was afraid he wouldn’t if he didn’t do it now. “She said she knew I’d be… a great dad. And the best godfather she could wish for her child. And I… I tried to live up to that. I tried, each and every day. Until I stopped. Because I wanted to live up to your needs, not her expectations. But I still think about her. Whenever I’m in doubt.” He let his hand drop from Ciri’s shoulder and touched his belly. “I want her to meet the little one. It’s irrational. I wish I could ask her about pregnancy stuff, instead of having to look everything up. I keep wondering what she’d say about me and your father. Would she be happy for us? Angry? All those things we’ll never know.”

Ciri sniffled. She looked up at him, dragging her forearm over her eyes to wipe at the tears. “You make her sound like she’d be happy you’re happy,” she said. “I remember her like that, too. Warm and happy and… and that’s about it. I don’t remember much. But I remember that. She loved me so much. And she loved father, too.”

Geralt pushed her hair back and kissed her on her forehead. He’d done that a lot when she was younger. It had always soothed him as much as it had soothed her. “Thanks, cub.”

“Stop that,” she laughed through her tears at the pet name. “I’m not a baby anymore.” She hugged him again. “Do you think father would mind if I took this box to my room?”

“Nah. He wouldn’t have left it down here for you to find if he didn’t.” At least Geralt thought Emhyr would have moved the box. He wasn’t the type to forget this kind of thing. Although he wondered if Emhyr had wanted Ciri to find them or had forgotten to tell her that he still had her mother’s photo albums. When it came to Pavetta, Geralt still wasn’t entirely sure what Emhyr was thinking. Maybe they should talk about her, afterall. There were a few things he couldn’t talk about with Ciri. And Emhyr probably didn’t have anyone he could even consider talking to about her. He loved Ciri. But he wasn’t the kind of person who’d discuss something so personal with his daughter. Which left only Geralt. Fuck.

Ciri looked down at the album she was clutching to her chest. “Yeah, probably.” She bit her lip. “But I think for today, I’ll just take the one. I’ve been down here enough for today.” She wiped at her eyes again, looked at her arm and laughed. “I must look like a mess.”

Geralt looked at her critically. “More like a racoon.”

She punched his arm. “You’re one to talk with your red puffy eyes.”

“At least I wasn’t wearing kajal and mascara. And neither was waterproof, from your look.” He grinned. “This might be the one time you should take a selfie.”

Ciri groaned. “I will not. Oh gods, we’ll have to get past father. You’re at least just being an ass. I don’t think I can deal with his raised eyebrow right now.” She staggered to her feet. From the way she stretched, her legs were protesting the long sitting on the hard floor.

Geralt stood up, too. He had to press a hand in the small of his back. Some muscle there felt like it was cramping. He pulled a face.

“The little one?” Ciri asked. 

Geralt waved her off. “Just a cramp. I think they’re asleep.”

“I’m really glad I get to have a sibling, dad,” Ciri said as she subtly led Geralt up the stairs. Back in the hallway, she pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Night, dad. And… thanks. For telling me about mom. And… everything, really.”

Emhyr took one look at Geralt when he entered the room and immediately asked, “Is something wrong, Geralt?”

Geralt touched the skin below his eye. He already felt like crap but, apparently, he looked it, too. He could probably blame it on hormones, but… “Ciri found the box with photo albums in the basement.”

Geralt could tell the moment the penny dropped for Emhyr. “Oh,” he simply said.

“She asked about her mother,” Geralt went on. 

Emhyr stayed frustratingly silent. He wasn’t looking at Geralt, but kept his body turned half away, hands crossed in front of his chest. Guarding himself. That he was showing even that little amount of emotion willingly had to count for something. Geralt had to believe that.

Instinctively, he put his hand over his belly. “She still misses her. Heck, I miss her, too. So…” Geralt swallowed. He didn’t know what to say to make this easier. “If you… I dunno, wanna talk about her some time… we’re both there for you.” He rubbed at his upper arm. “It’s years too late. And, I’m sorry.”

Glacially slow, Emhyr turned his head to face Geralt. He looked him up and down. Pressed his lips together. Finally, he unfolded his arms and held out his hand. “You look exhausted,” he said.

Geralt took Emhyr’s hand and let himself be pulled into a hug. He relaxed almost instantly. And he  **was** exhausted. So very exhausted.

Emhyr was pressing his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck. He was holding on tight. “I kept the albums in the basement because I couldn’t throw them out but I still can’t bear looking at them either.”

“Ciri wants them.”

“I figured.”

“She liked your hair. When you were a teen.”

At least that got a huff, warm and moist against Geralt’s skin.

Geralt gently prodded further. “She also liked your smile.”

Emhyr drew a rattling breath. Geralt could feel the moisture of tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. “Of the first two years after her death… after Pavetta died… I have barely any memories. I worked. I slept. I ate. But details, anything beyond those basics, it’s all blank.” His hands were shaking as he clutched the back of Geralt’s shirt. “I don’t even know if I got better.”

“When… when I was told I was Ciri’s legal guardian, I…” Geralt cleared his throat. This had to be said. “You put a lot of assets in her name. I know of the trust fund you set up when she was born. But I’ve also seen the dates on… well. You know. All of it. Like you put your affairs in order before you disappeared. I was sure you’d… you know. That losing Pavetta killed you.”

“It almost did,” Emhyr admitted, ever so softly. “It’d seemed…” His grip tightened. “Only fair.”

“Fair?” Geralt could feel his blood run cold. “How? How would it have been fair? Emhyr, she died in a car crash. It was a drunk driver. There’s nothing fair about it.”

“But she wasn’t supposed to be there,” Emhyr insisted. “She wasn’t going anywhere. She was only there because we had a fight. It should have been me who got out to get a clear head. Not her.”

“Even so.” Geralt had to swallow around the lump in his throat. When he’d known Emhyr less well, he’d have been inclined to agree it sounded like his fault. But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t. Without the accident, the fight before wouldn’t have mattered. He had to make Emhyr see that, too. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated. “It was an accident. Emhyr. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I told her to get back, that I wasn’t finished yet. I was yelling in anger. She went out the front door with a slam. And she never came back.” Emhyr was shaking all over. Years of bottled up emotions were fighting their way to the surface. Geralt knew the feeling only too well. It’d been much too long before he’d managed to face the loss himself, and he hadn’t been as close to her as Emhyr had been. It had hurt a lot for him. And he’d had people around him helping him through all the adjustments that had come with it.

“The next time I opened that door, it was to a police officer,” Emhyr went on. His breath rattled in his chest. His voice was shaky. “Informed me about the car crash. Her car was totaled. Pavetta was dead by the time the EMT got there. They might have shown me photographs of the crash but I can’t remember. Cirilla screamed and cried a lot. I don’t think I did.”

He pulled back a little. Allowed his hands to drop. Geralt had to hold him to keep him from turning away again. “Calanthe tracked me down. Wrote me letters. About Ciri. She asked me to come back. And I couldn’t. I failed her. I knew I was failing her at the time.”

Geralt wasn’t sure this was news to him. He’d always suspected something like that. At least, he’d known for sure that when Calanthe had fought tooth and nail for Emhyr to be declared unfit to raise his daughter, Emhyr hadn’t fought back. It had taken him four years, give or take, to pull himself back together enough to be in her life again.

“I’d understand…” Emhyr began and then stopped with a surprised little gasp as Geralt hugged him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Geralt cut him off. “I already knew most of that. And… strange, really, but I’m glad you told me. Because I was angry at you for a long time. I couldn’t understand. But I think I came to understand lately. And… you opened up to me. I’m happy about that. Really. Are you seeing anyone?”

“About what?” Not who, or why, Geralt noted. Emhyr had understood perfectly well what he meant.

“Missing memories and so on.” Geralt waved a hand. “I  _ know  _ those symptoms. I bet you had trouble doing things outside a routine, too. Or anything you couldn’t push away from you personally. You slept too little because you couldn’t. Do I have to go on?”

“No.” Emhyr was clenching his jaw in a way that signaled anger instead of embarrassment. Good, Geralt thought. Be annoyed at me instead of sad. Anger and annoyance is good. “ _ Seeing someone  _ was a prerequisite for the family court.”

“And you still do?”

“Once a month.” Slowly, Emhyr relaxed again. He’d clearly expected rejection and was now slowly coming around to the fact that he wasn’t being met with any. “I hate you for making me say all that.”

“Sure you do.” Geralt couldn’t help himself. He kissed Emhyr’s stubbly cheek. “Hey, I’m not telling anyone. I even think it’s a good idea. Ciri’s grief counselor helped a lot. Me too, if I’m being honest. I tried some of the things Ciri said had worked for her.”

Emhyr huffed. But he leaned forward again to rest some of his weight on Geralt. “This was unpleasant and entirely exhausting,” he said. “I’d prefer to never do it again. And yet. Thank you. I think… I should ask Ciri to look with me through one or two of the albums. Or with both of us. You can fill in some of the stories I forgot or didn’t know.” He cupped Geralt’s cheek with one hand. “Pavetta loved you like a brother. She told me so much about you. I always felt I knew you better than I actually did.”

Geralt swallowed. It had been the same for him. No matter how much Emhyr shut himself into his office or spent at the library or at school, Geralt had always known what he was working on for law school. Before that, he’d known about every course he’d taken at college, every trip he’d gone on, every movie he’d seen. A thousand small things, shared readily by Pavetta.

“Do you still like camping?” Geralt followed a thread of thought in the nest of half-remembered information.

Emhyr looked at him, baffled and confused over the change of topic. “I… what? Yes?”

“Then we should do that for our vacation.”

Emhyr didn’t even try to hide that he was staring at Geralt’s belly. “We will not.”

“A cabin, then.” Geralt grinned. “I’ve always been told you were a very outdoorsy person and I still can’t imagine it. Please?”

Emhyr opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “You are ridiculous,” he finally settled on. “Very well. If Ciri suggested a cabin, we could pick that, I suppose.”

“Perfect. So…” Geralt glanced around until he found the clock ticking away on the wall. “You’re not set on sleeping on the couch, are you? Because I’d miss you.”

“If you’ll still have me after all this.” The kiss Emhyr initiated was shy, a little pleading. A fragile little thing that only got firmer and stronger when Geralt responded. 

Geralt had known this growing relationship wouldn’t be easy. It probably would never stop being difficult at times. But for moments like this, he was sure, it was worth it to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this was a hard one. Sorry to anyone who expected fluff and got this [waves hands vaguely at the chapter].  
> I'd just like to say thank you for all the kind comments this fic has been getting so far. I promise the next two chapters will be lighter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer! Heat! Vacation!
> 
> (Keeping the author warm in the snow)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more unbeta'ed than usual. I didn't reread it after I wrote the last part.

Geralt was miserable. It was hot. His office in the back of one of the greenhouses at the botanical and zoological garden was stifling. He’d been sitting for what felt like hours. And the baby kept moving, distracting him from work at inconvenient moments. He’d been ordered by his boss to manage the collection from the office, with minimal physical work. He was strictly forbidden from straining himself. She’d been very adamant about that. He’d been equally adamant about being allowed to at least give tours of the botanical garden and the green houses. She’d eventually relented, when he’d shown her that regular mild exercise was very much recommended.

It had taken him a lot of nudging, but she’d eventually admitted that somebody had told her Emhyr was a corporate lawyer and she didn’t want to risk anything that might lead to a lawsuit. Geralt had been grinding his teeth all day after that talk. The worst part of it was that it was reasonable and he had no way of faulting her for it. He was also getting maternal leave. Which, apparently, he had a right to, anyway, even though he hadn’t read that part of his contract and nobody had bothered to point that out because people still tended to assume he was an alpha. When he had vented to Emhyr about it that night, Emhyr had listened, but he hadn’t denied that he’d sue if his employer put Geralt at risk. 

Summerly temperatures and little else than emails and excel tables to keep him busy were grating on him. Lambert had gleefully dumped all his paperwork on Geralt in exchange for taking over the “fieldwork” from Geralt. Eskel had had the decency to look sympathetic when Geralt had broken the news of a temporary reorganization of things. Neither of them had stopped staring at Geralt’s midsection every time they talked face to face, though. Geralt really wanted to punch his friends sometimes.

The main thing he had currently to look forward to was their planned family vacation. His boss had signed off on it already. He was almost certain Emhyr was currently intent on tying up as many loose ends at work as he could. It showed in the hours he put in, and in how exhausted he was when he got home. So it looked good on that front as well. Ciri was enjoying summer school, too, even though she kept complaining about the heat in late July as well.

Which had left Geralt with only one major problem to be solved before they could spend two weeks in a cabin by a lake in the middle of a forest. Usually, when he’d be away from home for a while, he could ask Yen to water his plants. Or Lambert, if Geralt was desperate. But seeing as he had by now moved all of his plants to Emhyr’s house, both felt suddenly like very bad options. He’d talked it over with Emhyr, and they had agreed that asking Eskel might be okay. Under the condition that Emhyr would meet Eskel before.

The plan was that Emhyr would join them during their lunch break. Or it had been, until Ciri had heard about it. She’d pulled out all the stops in begging him to spend the day with her at the zoo. Emhyr had fought it for a few days, but given in eventually. He was giving in a lot to Ciri, in Geralt’s opinion. There were boundaries, but as long as Ciri wouldn’t push at them, Emhyr would keep pretending they weren’t there.

So while Geralt was stuck writing emails to other botanical gardens and planning a temporary exhibition of local endangered plants and their protection on an individual level his boss had wanted for a long time, Emhyr was probably getting a detailed tour of the zoo thanks to Ciri. She’d spent so many afternoons around when she was younger that she still knew most of the zoo keepers and gardeners. And she’d read all the plaques and asked every question she could come up with. Most of the information was still there, Geralt knew. Which meant that there was nobody in the city who’d be better suited as a tour guide. Maybe he should ask his boss about giving Ciri a summer job next year.

He glanced up at the clock. They were to meet in ten minutes. If he walked slow and picked Eskel up on the way he could start his break now to be on time. It wasn’t like he’d fixed hours. So long as the work got done and he didn’t stay too late, his boss was happy. And besides, the baby kept moving against his bladder.

Eskel was tending to the goats when Geralt came looking. He was the resident ungulate expert and devoted to all the animals in his care, but especially to the herd queen of the Ibexes. She’d been the first animal born under his sole care and had gotten attached to him over time. Eskel was the only human she always tolerated in the enclosure, even when she was at her moodiest. In return, Eskel made sure to spend at least some time each work day around her, mostly feeding the herd and cleaning the enclosure.

Geralt stood and watched for a moment as Eskel finished up, scratching the queen behind her ear in passing before he pushed his cleaning tools out to the toolshed behind the enclosure. Two minutes later, Eskel came to a stop next to Geralt. “You look nervous,” he noted in lieu of a greeting.

“You heard Lambert and Yen.” Geralt pulled a face. “He’s the devil incarnate.”

Eskel thought about that for a moment. “Can’t be if you like him.”

Geralt nudged his friend with his shoulder as they walked. “Thanks for saying that.”

“How’s Yen dealing with it, anyway?” Eskel asked, quietly. “I always thought she’d be your mate, when you finally got past the on again off again stage.”

Geralt could feel the heat rise in his cheeks. “We haven’t been a couple for years.”

“Still.” Eskel shot him a  _ look _ . “She obviously still thought she was your Alpha half the time.”

“Right,” Geralt huffed. “You know how we broke up the last time. No. She’s not getting any say in who I choose to be with. I’m amazed we’re still friends sometimes.” He put his hand on his belly. “I’m… I didn’t want to be pregnant. It happened. I can only deal with it from there. And if Yen’s upset about that… well, she’s gotta deal with that, too.”

Eskel shook his head slowly. “Alphas.”

“Exactly.” 

They were getting close to the restaurant they’d picked. As expected, the crowd was getting thicker, but not by much. Most families visiting chose to eat in the picnic areas, not one of the priciest restaurants in the garden. Geralt spotted Ciri almost instantly. It wasn’t too hard. She’d seen them first and came running, yelling “uncle Eskel” in delight as she threw herself around his neck in greeting.

“Hey, cub,” Eskel said, putting her back down again. “How’s everything?”

“Good,” Ciri laughed. “Real good. How’re you? How’re the Ibexes?”

Geralt tuned them out after that. His attention had almost automatically turned to Emhyr, who’d followed Ciri, although much slower. He was wearing what for him passed for casual wear, which meant no tie or suit jacket. His eyes were covered with black sunglasses, but he was smiling when he noticed Geralt. He came to a halt beside Geralt, just close enough Geralt could take his hand if he wanted to. He did and it earned him another, smaller, smile.

“Eskel?” Geralt said in a brief moment of silence. “Uhm, this, well, this is Emhyr. Emhyr, Eskel. I told you about him.”

“Nice to meet you.” Emhyr stiffly extended his hand.

Eskel paused for a moment, before shaking it. “I hope Geralt only told you about the good stuff.”

“He merely hinted that you are reliable, trustworthy and kind,” Emhyr replied evenly. “Cirilla, on the other hand, told me all about your work. And the names and habits of quite a few of your charges. I can only imagine what it must have been like to frequently watch her. She can be quite a handful.”

“Father!” Ciri protested. “I’m not that bad.”

“She really isn’t,” Eskel played it down. “I enjoyed watching her sometimes when Geralt was busy. She’s always had interesting questions.”

“See?” Ciri grinned at her father. “And clearly I learned something.”

“That you did.” Emhyr ruffled her hair, causing a slew of protests from her. She kept grinning though. Emhyr raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re just like dad,” she laughed, hugging his side. “Always messing with my hair!”

Emhyr blinked. Then, he looked to Geralt. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I must have picked it up from you.”

“Probably.” Geralt shrugged. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving.”

They found themselves a table in the back of the restaurant. Emhyr made sure Eskel remembered that he’d be paying for all the meals, so Eskel could order whatever he liked. It was nice to have lunch like that. Eskel quizzed Ciri about what she’d seen so far and Ciri asked about animals she’d noticed. There was some polite conversation between Eskel and Emhyr, about work, Geralt moving, and Ciri as a smaller kid.

Geralt mostly listened. He hadn’t been exaggerating that he felt like he was starving. For the past couple of days he’d wanted to eat almost constantly. There’d even been the occasional craving, late at night. All the books said it was because the little one was now more developed and he was eating for two. His OB-gyn had said something similar. He’d just have to deal with it.

Bell peppers were still making him queasy, though, so when he found some on his plate, he pushed them to the side.

“Give them here if you aren’t eating them,” Emhyr sighed, moving his plate next to Geralt’s.

Geralt glared at him. “Stop fussing.” He still forked the peppers over. Out of spite, he stole some of Emhyr’s food in exchange. “I can eat on my own.”

“I know.” Emhyr pulled his plate back. “But you really don’t have to eat anything that makes you sick.”

Geralt opened his mouth to claim he could eat peppers he just didn’t want to, but then closed it again without saying it. “I hate that you know.”

Emhyr leaned in close, so he could whisper in Geralt’s ear. He also put his hand on Geralt’s thigh, sending a warm shiver down Geralt’s spine. “Because you still see it as a weakness, Geralt,” he murmured. “Not as a strength that I could alleviate such discomfort without you having to ask.”

“I…” Geralt shook this head. He put his hand over Emhyr’s and squeezed. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Baby giving you trouble?” Eskel asked when Emhyr had pulled back. He was smiling in a knowing way that somehow really got on Geralt’s nerves.

“It’s not that bad anymore,” Geralt brushed the question off. “In the first trimester I had trouble eating in the mornings without getting sick. ...that’s how I found out.”

Eskel laughed. “Sounds like you, Geralt. When was it, exactly?”

There was something about Eskel’s expression that gave Geralt pause. “You and Lambert don’t have a bet going about that, do you?”

“We? Never!” Eskel raised both his hands.

“Right.” Geralt didn’t believe it for a second. He splayed his hand over his belly. “The little one’s constantly kicking lately. Especially during the day, but also at night.” He let out a deep sigh. “My back hurts, my entire body aches. I don’t think I’ve needed a vacation this badly in the past…” He looked at Ciri, considering. “Maybe nine years.” Then, he smiled. “But I can’t wait to meet the baby face to face.”

Eskel nodded, satisfied.

The conversation steered away from the whole baby topic again after that. Eskel was making suggestions about what Ciri should go see while she was at the zoo and Geralt added a few ideas about the botanical garden. Somehow, Eskel invited Ciri and Emhyr to come join the tour Geralt would be giving in one section of the outdoor gardens. It was one of the shorter ones, dealing with mostly European herbs and their application in traditional medicine and cuisine there. To Geralt’s neverending wonder, the tour tended to attract a small crowd each time. Right now, at the end of July, the herbs would each give off their own fragrance in the summer heat. It was his favorite time for the tour.

Eventually, Geralt and Eskel had to go back to work. They said their temporary goodbyes outside the restaurant. Ciri was already close to pulling her father off in the direction she wanted to go next. Geralt waved after them. They both seemed like they were having a good time. A warm feeling was filling his chest as he watched them go.

“Well?” he asked Eskel on their way back. “What do you think?”

“Of him?” Eskel shrugged. “Does it really matter?”

“Yeah, it kind of does.”

“Alright.” Eskel took a deep breath. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s clearly in love with you. Not that he’s not trying to hide it. And I don’t blame him that he does. But he cares about you like he cares about Ciri. Or not exactly like that but close. So, what’s the actual problem, Geralt?”

“I feel like…” Geralt swallowed. “Like it’s Yen all over again. Like I want to hand over everything that I am and get little to nothing in return. That I’m forcing things. And… urgh. It’s just complicated.”

“Oh no, your relationship doesn’t look like in a romcom, I’m sure it’s doomed.” Eskel elbowed him in the arm. It hurt. “You really think Ciri would be that happy if it wasn’t a good thing? She’s always known exactly what she wanted. And she loves you a whole lot. So. Quick checklist” They’d stopped in front of the enclosure of the Przewalski’s horses. “Does he force you to anything? Has he made you promise to be a housewife for the rest of your life yet? Are you forbidden from having friends?"

“No,” Geralt said gruffly. “And he doesn’t look through my phone or control me in any way, either. But that’s a pretty low bar to clear, not being completely and openly abusive.”

“Yeah. How does he make you feel?”

“Warm? Content?” Geralt shrugged. “Like everything will be alright, probably. I just wish… ok, that’s gonna sound weird, but, well, I wish we’d fight more.”

Eskel laughed at him. “Right. You’re still in the honeymoon phase. Enjoy it while it lasts. You’ll fight about something, soon enough.”

“Thanks.” Geralt let out a long frustrated sigh. “No, seriously. Thanks. Remind me to talk to you the next time I’m having relationship problems.”

“Please don’t.” Eskel patted Geralt on the shoulder. “I should get back to work.”

“Yeah, me too. See you around.”

“You too buddy.”

The first week of August eventually arrived. The days running up to their trip were surprisingly stressful. Setting up everything so Eskel had only a minimum of plant sitting to do was the least of Geralt’s problems. He needed a new pair of hiking boots. Ciri needed a new bathsuit. There were a thousand little things to remember to pack and errands to run.

By the time they were ready to go, Geralt was exhausted. He’d never been as glad not to be driving before. It was a two hour trip up to the cabin they’d agreed on and as soon as he sat down he was ready to make it a two hour nap. The baby disagreed but he was starting to learn to sleep through the kicks.

Ciri on the other hand had been running on excitement for days. Even now in the car, she was close to vibrating with pent up energy. Geralt had traded seats with her precisely because of that. Napping was much easier when Emhyr took care of one kid.

Geralt managed to sleep through the entire drive. The sound of muted conversation had lulled him into sleep and the gentle hum of the car had done the rest. In Emhyr’s sedan, even the backseats were comfortable. Only when both died away did he slowly wake up, startled to fully awake when Ciri slammed the car door.

“Daaaaaaaad, we’re there!” she yelled, opening the door for him. “Look! It’s a real cabin! Like on their page. Father’s already done the check-in when we drove in so all we have to do is unpack and did you see yet? It’s right at the lake. There’s a barbecue with every cabin. We can make barbecue, like when we went camping but with real beds to sleep in at night. And the forest here is sooo big. I don’t think ten days is enough to hike through it all. But there’s also the lake and a wildlife reserve and so much other stuff.”

While she’d been talking, Geralt had gotten out of the car. He stretched, rubbing the small of his back when he was done to ease the pain in it. “Alright, cub,” he said when Ciri finally took a breath. “How about you run unpack and then we could take a little walk around the lake.”

Before he’d even finished his sentence, Ciri had already skipped to the back of the car, pulling her backpack and suitcase free. “Be ready in a flash!” she called as she took the cabin key from Emhyr and ran off.

“Please tell me that that excessive amount of energy will eventually wear off,” Emhyr sighed. He was unloading the rest of their luggage. “I will not be able to keep up with that for long.”

“Neither will I, trust me.” Geralt grinned. Despite the glare Emhyr shot him, he grabbed his own backpack. “She’s running on excitement. It’ll wear off, sooner or later. If not, we can just throw her in the lake. To go swim, I mean.”

“Hm.” Emhyr grabbed Geralt’s suitcase when Geralt reached for it. “Are you doing alright?”

“I… yeah.” Geralt shrugged. “Just tired.”

Emhyr nodded. “I expect you to tell us if you are exhausted or unwell.”

“Yeah, okay.” Geralt kissed his cheek. “Try to relax a little. We’re on vacation now.”

The cabin was right by the lake shore. A semicircle had been cleared to make room for a cabin and some parking space. The trees surrounding them offered privacy from the neighboring cabins. A cool, welcome breeze was blowing over the lake. In the distance, one could hear the yells and cries of playing kids. Closer, a couple of birds were singing at the top of their lungs to make themselves heard over the constant din of chirping insects. 

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The air was fresher out here, too. Less oppressive, even though it was still summerly hot. Until he had it, he hadn’t even known how much he needed this.

He opened his eyes and took Emhyr’s hand with a smile. “C’mon, let’s get our things inside and then get ready to walk around the lake with Ciri.” And, because he could and because Ciri was nowhere in sight to groan at him, he kissed Emhyr, because what they had, too, was a good thing he hadn’t known he'd needed.

The days of their vacation passed peacefully, if a little faster than Gerald had expected. They only went hiking every other day, and then only on shorter trips, returning in the late afternoon. The other days were spent swimming and reading. One day they went to the wildlife reservation.

Ciri was having a blast. She’d quickly made friends with other teens who were visiting the lake with their parents, so on the days they weren’t hiking she was usually with them, fooling around in the lake. Emhyr’d given her a new camera, which she dragged with her anywhere, documenting all the interesting plants and some animals she saw on their hikes. Geralt did the same with his phone, making special notes every time they came across an endangered plant species he recognized, mostly out of habit.

When it came to Emhyr, there had been two big surprises for Geralt. First, he was just as outdoorsy as him and Ciri now that he had the time, with keen eyes for animals and sure footed on the trails. Second, it turned out that he tanned very quickly. Geralt felt like he was the only one still needing sunscreen after a week, and he was the one who usually spent the most time outside.

They also had a lot of barbecue, to Ciri’s constant delight. It was slightly worrying to see her gleefully poke at the fire with sticks. Geralt had to fight his every instinct to tell her to stop that and stay away from the fire so she wouldn’t hurt herself. He was fidgeting enough that Emhyr asked about it that night and they came up with a solution. They put Ciri in charge of grilling bread on sticks over the campfire, to go with the other food. It kept her concentrated on the fire, she was doing something useful, and the finished bread was delicious, too.

On the second to last night at the cabin, Geralt and Emhyr were sitting outside, looking out at the lake. Ciri’d gone to bed early, exhausted from a day of swimming. Stars twinkled in the sky above and the lake below. It was still warm despite the late hour.

“We should do this every year,” Geralt sighed, looking up over the crowns of the trees beyond the lake. “This place is amazing.”

“Quite.” There was a tiny smile in Emhyr’s voice. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the vacation.”

“Very much.” Geralt stretched to ease the strain on his back. “Despite everything. Well. I mean I could do without the constant pain in my back and feet. But the rest is close to perfect.”

Emhyr’s hand twitched as if he caught himself from reaching out. When Geralt noticed, he took him by the wrist and put the hand on his belly. “It’s okay for you to touch,” he grumbled. The baby was moving a little more sluggish but still kicking. He’d learned that it was a sign that the little one was about to fall asleep or already sleeping. “I’m only getting annoyed at strangers for not even asking.”

“Like the woman you snapped at this afternoon?” Emhyr had pulled Geralt closer.

“Yeah. Happens at work, too, and there I can’t just yell at people.” Geralt sighed. “Like they’ve never seen a pregnant omega and all baby bumps are public property in their mind. Can’t wait for that to be over, too.” He groaned. “I’m just venting. Just so we’re clear. I can deal with it. It’s just annoying. And very much encroaching on my personal space. But not something I want you to do something about.”

“Alright,” Emhyr said in exactly the same tone Ciri employed when she was grudgingly accepting something she’d circumvent the second she found a loophole. “I’m terrified the move will be too exhausting for you.”

Geralt put his hand over Emhyr’s. “I promise to tell you when it’s too much?” he suggested. “Do you want to have a contingency plan in place for that possibility?”

“Yes.” The relief in Emhyr’s voice was the only proof betraying how nervous he really was. He was doing his best to fuss as little as possible, against his instincts and very nature. Geralt appreciated it, but it got harder to ignore that it was somewhat distressing for him. “Is there anything Ciri couldn’t or shouldn’t help pack or unpack?”

Geralt shook his head. “Don’t think so. My bedroom’s mostly packed up already anyway. We could just move that ahead of time. It’s really more the furniture I’m worried about with the move.”

“That’s why you asked your friends for help.”

“Yeah.” Geralt leaned his head on Emhyr’s shoulder. “That, and…” He swallowed. “I was terrified of rejection, but part of me wanted to share… that good thing we’re having here. That I’m content. Once upon a time, I even desperately wanted children of my own. Before Ciri. And they know that.”

“I’m not sure how good becoming a parent in your mid-twenties actually is. I feel much better equipped now than I ever was with Ciri.”

“Well, yeah. No objections there. I was treading deep water for months with her. And I didn’t have to juggle work and law school and had more than two people to rely on.” He smiled. “Promise me to never tell her, but I was so relieved when she was finally in school. It’s much easier to tell a childless friend ‘she has to do all of this as homework, supervise her’ than to ask them to entertain a kindergartener.”

Emhyr chuckled. “My lips are sealed.”

“You’re still a wet blanket with her, though.”

For a moment, Emhyr tensed, but he forced himself to relax again. “How so?”

“She will not hate you because you sometimes don’t allow her stuff.” Geralt waved his hand. “It’s nothing too serious yet, but I’m worried that you’ll let her get her way too often. You don’t have to spoil her.”

“I mostly hope that she can see the merits of my arguments, as much as I try to see the merits of hers,” Emhyr sighed.

That, somehow, made Geralt laugh. It was just so much like Emhyr. And it did work on Ciri. She was getting better and better at debating him. But she was also a teen already and playing along. “That could go badly one day when she refuses to be logical,” Geralt finally settled on. “And it will definitely not work on a toddler.”

“Point… somewhat taken.” Emhyr’s heart was beating a little faster and his hand on Geralt’s had become clammy. “We will talk about big decisions together in the future. Promise…” He licked his lips. “Promise me we’ll at least try to avoid grand fights.”

“Hey… hey, we’ve come up with compromises before, why would that change now?”

“The stakes have become slightly higher since.”

“I’m not gonna leave you over school choices!”

“I know that,” Emhyr snapped. A year ago, Geralt would have taken that tone as a challenge to a fight. Now, he knew that Emhyr was mostly angry at himself. “But I can’t stop myself from worrying. I start to think about an issue and then think about all the parts of it that are outside my control and I hate that I can’t control everything…” He huffed. 

Geralt didn’t need to hear more. He could only too well imagine the spiral down from there. So he did the only thing he could think of. He kissed Emhyr.

“Distraction won’t solve anything,” Emhyr grumbled. He still looked mollified in the dim moonlight, though.

“No, but you make plans for all the things you can control. So I can at least help you not focus on the things you can’t.” Geralt smirked. He looked over to the lake. “Say, why don’t we go for a quick swim?”

“At night?” Emhyr seemed to be gearing up to protest. “Now?”

Geralt got up, pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the porch. “Now. C’mon.” He held out his hand. “It’ll be fun.”

Emhyr hesitated for a second. He even closed his eyes. But when he opened them again, he took Geralt’s hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. They kissed briefly.

Geralt smirked against Emhyr’s lips. “You know, at night, nobody’s watching…” He slipped his hands under Emhyr’s shirt. “We don’t have to sneak inside for swimsuits.”

“Geralt…” Emhyr started and then was about to yelp, which Geralt quickly muffled with another kiss. He’d anticipated a reaction like that to grabbing Emhyr’s ass.

“You’ll wake Ciri and the neighbors,” Geralt whispered. Emhyr was glaring daggers at him. He ignored it, trailing a finger along the hem of Emhyr’s pants to the front. “You can stop me.”

Emhyr swallowed, but didn’t move, neither away nor to stop Geralt.

After ten carefully counted heartbeats, Geralt undid the button and pulled down the zipper of Emhyr’s pants. “The towels are still out to dry,” Geralt murmured against Emhyr’s lips. “We could drop them by the shore.” He hooked his thumbs into Emhyr’s shorts. Emhyr didn’t resist, he simply waited with bated breath for whatever Geralt was meaning to do. It made Geralt reconsider his plans, especially since he could smell Emhyr getting interested, too. His own body was already reacting to it. 

“Or…” Geralt licked his lips. He leaned in closer so he could whisper in Emhyr’s ear. “You could sit back down and let me take care of you…” It had been a while since they’d done anything. Too much stress, too many other thoughts. It was tempting, now, especially with the added excitement of being outside. Geralt cupped Emhyr’s package through his shorts.

“Geralt,” Emhyr breathed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Emhyr swallowed. Then, he nodded minutely.

Geralt licked his lips. He smiled with all teeth, before he pulled down Emhyr’s shorts in one swift pull. How much he’d actually missed this. It wasn’t the longest he’d gone without sex, far from it, but it had been the longest since he’d started living with Emhyr. He guided Emhyr back down on the porch bench by his hips. Almost immediately, Emhyr spread his legs so Geralt could kneel between them. 

A blowjob wasn’t exactly what Geralt wanted, but he’d take what he could get. He knew, without asking, that Emhyr wasn’t comfortable with fucking him anymore. They both knew it wouldn’t hurt the baby, but Emhyr was worrying. Geralt could just tell. So he didn’t push it. He could live without sex, if that meant he could keep the morning cuddles and little kisses in bed and all the other small gestures of affection he’d gotten used to so terrifyingly fast. Emhyr was making it easy on him to let himself fall, if not in love, then into something very very similar to it.

Emhyr’s hand in his hair, the gentle brush of fingers on his scalp, brought him back to reality. He turned his head to kiss the inside of Emhyr’s thigh. “‘m good,” Geralt answered the unspoken question. He swallowed. “I…” He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not like this. It was too close to making it all about sex, not feelings. He couldn’t let Emhyr believe that, not even for a second, not if he could prevent it. Maybe he’d already fallen too far already to turn back.

When he heard Emhyr open his mouth to say something, Geralt acted quickly to stop him. He took Emhyr’s half hard cock in one hand near the base, then licked up the rest of the way to the tip. Whatever Emhyr had meant to say got lost in a stifled groan.

Geralt focused on the task in hand. It really had been a while. He noticed it by the way his jaw strained when he tried to swallow more than just the tip on his first try. He noticed it by the way he had to fight his gag reflex. But he mostly noticed it by how fast his own body was reacting, how he was already feeling hot and wet and his own dick was straining against the fabric of his shorts.

He reached down with his free hand to open his cargo pants. The arousal wafting off Emhyr smelled so good. Geralt wanted to bury his nose at the center of it and breathe in deeply. He struggled again against his gag reflex, doing his best to swallow down more of Emhyr’s prick. Absentmindedly, he wrapped the hand in his lap around his own dick. It was grounding, the same way the hand in his hair was grounding him. Instinct always threatened to overwhelm him in moments like this, when he allowed himself to be vulnerable. When he didn’t watch himself to keep them in check. It had made him afraid of these moments. He was still afraid of these moments, but not with Emhyr. He’d never been really afraid with Emhyr. It had been like that only once before for him. And this time, he wanted to hold on to it.

He pulled back off for air. Emhyr brushed back his hair from his face. When he looked up, Emhyr’s eyes shone with warmth in the moonlight. Geralt had to swallow against his suddenly dry mouth. His chest felt tight. He had to look away so he wouldn’t say something incredibly stupid. 

He really didn’t want to screw anything up this time.

“Geralt…” Emhyr sighed when Geralt took him back in his mouth. The hand in Geralt’s hair brushed further back, down his neck and over his shoulders. Geralt allowed himself to hum in appreciation. The vibration made Emhyr gasp quietly, so he did it again as he slowly pushed forward, past his gag reflex. He only held it for a couple of seconds before he had to back off again to draw breath. The next time he managed to hold it longer and get down more. He was taking his time to stretch his limits. 

Emhyr wasn’t complaining. On the contrary, while he tried to keep quiet, he was still making all those tiny little noises Geralt had never heard from him before. It spurred him on. He wanted to hear more of the noises. So much more.

When he was sure he could take it all, he pulled back so only the very tip was still inside his mouth. He looked up, searching for Emhyr’s eyes with his own. When he found it, he held the connection, moving forward ever so slowly, taking deep breaths through his nose and swallowing with each further push when Emhyr’s dick hit the back of his throat. He could feel Emhyr shiver. But he didn’t look away. And his gaze was still so uncharacteristically warm.

Geralt swallowed involuntarily and then almost choked. He steadied himself against Emhyr’s thigh for a moment until he had his breathing and gag reflex back under control. Then he pushed on, until his nose was pressed against pubes. He breathed in deeply, revelling in the smell. This was for him and him alone. An uncontrolled physical reaction. Because he was wanted, still wanted. He purred happily deep in his throat. 

That made Emhyr gasp, so loud it seemed to shock him, with how he broke their eye contact and covered his mouth with both hands. Geralt didn’t think he’d seen Emhyr ever this undone. Yet something else he wanted more of. Greedily, he began to move his mouth, back a little and then forward again. His hand slipped off his own weeping cock so he could hold onto Emhyr’s hips with both hands. He closed his eyes to concentrate on his other senses. The hardness of the cock in mouth, the velvety skin against his tongue, the salty taste of precum, the muffled noises Emhyr couldn’t hide anymore. And always the smell of arousal, all around him.

He drew back when he felt the cock in his mouth swell. Sucking and licking, he coaxed Emhyr over the edge. There was no warning. Just a loud gasp at the same moment as when he could feel the cock twitch. The sudden salty taste of cum filled his mouth. He swallowed, again and again, to keep himself from choking on it. When he pulled back, he licked the dick clean before he fully let go, sitting back so he could grin at Emhyr that much easier.

Despite the faint light, Emhyr looked wrecked. His hair was clinging to his face with sweat. His chest was heaving. His head had fallen back to rest against the wall of the cabin.

Geralt pressed a kiss to the inside of Emhyr’s knee. “Everything alright?” It was almost painful in Geralt’s ears how worried he sounded.

Emhyr gulped in a couple more hasty breaths. He nodded. “Just… give me a second.” With shaky hands, he tugged at his rumpled shirt. Not to do anything, it seemed like. He was just tugging at it for the sake of it. “Do you need…?”

“I’m good,” Geralt assured him quickly. It hadn’t taken him much to get off himself after the blowjob. The visuals alone had been inspiring enough. He wiped his hands off on his discarded t-shirt.

“I think,” Emhyr started, once he’d finally calmed down enough. “I’d very much enjoy that swim you mentioned now.”

Late that night, after they’d cleaned the evidence of what they’d been doing away and after a long cool dip in the lake, when they were in bed, sleepy and pleasantly exhausted, Emhyr suddenly squeezed Geralt to his chest and whispered softly in his ear: “I love you, Geralt.”

And Geralt didn’t know how to respond. His heart felt like it was stopping and beating too fast at the same time. It wasn’t like he didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t like he hadn’t wanted to hear those exact words. He just couldn’t find an answer to encompass it all. So he simply took Emhyr’s hand and squeezed it, hard and desperate.

“Love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Y'all are welcome to yell at me on the twitter the next time I take long. Or if you just wanna hang out tbh. Same username as here.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be the move!


	6. Chapter 6

The date of the move had been set for the second weekend of September. It had taken a lot of discussion to reach that date. In the end, Geralt had been so exhausted by it that he’d simply set the date, based on which one had gotten the least pushback and complaints. Eskel, at least, had immediately confirmed he’d be helping. That had been a relief. Geralt had no idea how much he could still lift and every time he thought about it, his hand involuntarily found its way to the curve his belly.

The baby kept growing inside of him. It had gotten big enough that most of his clothes didn’t fit him anymore. He’d taken two very frustrating trips to the mall in search of some maternity clothes he could wear without looking ridiculous. None of the big stores seemed to even acknowledge the existence of pregnant male omegas. Everything was dresses and wide hips and round butts and animals and flowers and prints. Nothing he could possibly wear to work. Well, maybe the flowers if those shirts weren’t cut to reveal some cleavage and possibly even waist. In the end, he’d given up and ordered online from a shop someone at the parenting class had recommended.

The class was surprisingly fun and not at all stressful. Geralt had decided on the wednesday evening class. It was closer to home and when he’d asked Cerys’ parents if they’d let Ciri stay over every wednesday for six weeks they’d readily agreed. Geralt wasn’t sure how to thank the AnCraites but he’d made a mental note to put them on top of his holiday list for the year.

Emhyr’d been more practical about it and simply gifted Cerys’ dad a bottle of expensive whiskey the first time they’d dropped Ciri off. That had led to an invitation to join them for barbecue the following saturday, the last of the kids’ summer holidays. It had been fun, at least for Geralt. He’d always liked Crach and his family. Emhyr had taken a while to warm up to Crach, but had eventually capitulated to the boisterous man and accepted the exuberant friendship he was offered. Ciri had been really happy with her father about it all. She kept hugging him the days after and telling him how glad she was that her dads got along with Cerys’ parents. It had eased Emhyr’s worries that he was doing the right thing, not that he’d ever admit it.

Geralt knew they were both feeling bad about neglecting Ciri for the baby.

The class itself was more, much more, than Geralt had hoped for. He’d been nervous about it at first, despite all of Emhyr’s reassurances and despite what the group running the family center presented themselves as. That nervousness had disappeared when he’d realized that he wasn’t the only male omega in the class. There were two others, one married to a female alpha and the other bonded to a male alpha. The course would run for about three hours each week and cover the basics at first in the most general terms and then the instructor would move on to discuss the topic’s details closely tailored to the group. That meant that Geralt felt like he was actually part of the intended audience and not just some ill fitting spare part. He learned a lot each week. And nobody was calling him “mommy” or “expecting lady” or other silly things most of the books and websites about pregnancy did. Here, he was just “the pregnant partner” or “expecting parent”. The instructor spent the second week on the differences between male and female births, what to look out for, what to expect in, somewhat bloody, detail, and how the contractions would feel to male omegas in comparison to females. After the class, the instructor took the three couples with a male omega aside to recommend some further reading material into C-sections. There was no pressure to have one. That was what surprised Geralt the most. His OB-gyn was adamant about Geralt having one, as if it was the only option. It still looked like the best option. But it was suddenly his own choice. That, all on its own, would have sold Geralt on the merits of the class, hadn’t he already been convinced.

It was a pleasant bonus when somebody else asked about the sudden dull dragging pain and growth in the chest area he’d been noticing. Nobody had ever bothered to mention that nursing would be a thing for a male omega. But clearly, their bodies—not just Geralt’s, the other male omegas’ bodies too!—didn’t care about what was socially expected and were adapting to help care for their babies just like the bodies of the female omegas.

The entire experience was thrilling in a way Geralt sorely lacked the words to describe. 

It had to show, because the night after the class, the wednesday before the move, when they were already in bed, Emhyr observed: “You’re enjoying the class. I’m glad.” And he kissed the back of Geralt’s neck in a way that made it clear he’d more to say or probably to ask but hadn’t worked out how yet.

Giving it a shot in the dark, Geralt sighed: “It makes me more comfortable with myself and more confident about the future. That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Emhyr sounded relieved. “It’s a very comprehensive class.” He sounded so incredibly pleased with it. As if he’d been prepared for less and found himself surprised. “The one we took before Ciri’s birth was far less…detailed.”

Geralt snorted at the understatement. “Yeah, gathered that much from practically everywhere else.” He squeezed Emhyr’s hand around him. “Kinda wish they’d’ve been like that with sex-ed in school. Would’ve spared me a lot of worries.”

“Mh-hm,” Emhyr hummed. “They offer after-school sex-ed classes, too.”

“Are you thinking of sending Ciri there?” Geralt had been wondering if it would be a good idea. There was still a good chance Ciri’d turn out to be an alpha. And anyway, the more she knew about health and reproduction, the better.

“I was thinking of giving her the flyer and simply asking her.” He squeezed Geralt closer to his chest for a moment. “I don’t particularly want to have to explain any of it to her myself. But I don’t want her to have to figure it out on her own even less.”

Geralt laughed at the mental image. He wasn’t sure who’d be more uncomfortable, Ciri or Emhyr.

Once the laughter had died away, Geralt intertwined his fingers with Emhyr’s. “I’m very happy right now,” he sighed. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.” He bit his lip. Saturday was looming large in his mind already. He hadn’t really been able to convince Yen not to be furious or at least be furious at him. He didn’t need the stress of that worry but he also couldn’t lose her as a friend. He wanted to fix it. But he had to do a little groundwork with Emhyr first. Because at the end of the day, the family he suddenly had, that he’d had for almost half a year now, was more important to him.

“I love you.” He squeezed Emhyr’s hand. “A lot. But…”

“But?” Emhyr prompted, voice suddenly wide awake again.

Geralt choked out a laugh. “I haven’t always?”

“I am… was. Aware of that.”

“And… well. My friends know that, too. And Yen especially… She’s never been a fan of anyone I’ve ever been seeing and now...” His hand was shaking. Ok, he was panicking. Nothing had even happened yet. “I still love her. As a friend. Just a friend. But she’s still. Still important.”

“And yet she hates me with a passion.” Emhyr sighed deeply. “I can see why this distresses you.”

Geralt groaned. He wanted to curl up into a ball until he was feeling better but he wasn’t physically capable of even doing that. He had to settle for hugging his pillow for comfort. “Can you promise me not to start a fight with her?” he tried. He needed to hear Emhyr say it.

“I’ll try,” Emhyr said instead. Evasive.

“Don’t let her bait you,” Geralt tried again. “Please? I know the dislike is mutual. But… you can keep your cool in court, right? Can’t you just imagine she’s an opposing lawyer or something?”

Emhyr buried his nose in Geralt’s hair and took a couple of deep breaths. “I’ll try. That’s the best I can promise.” He sighed. “She said some things that cut deep, when I… we… because of Ciri. They were true, of course. But it still hurt. A lot.”

“You mean that you were doing it for your own ego and because you were a self-centered bastard who thought Ciri was your property?” Geralt squeezed his hand. “That’s not true. And it wasn’t true back then.”

“But it could just as well have been.”

“You’re doing well with Ciri now. You just both had to learn how to be around each other again. Don’t let Yen tell you otherwise. She had to learn too. She didn’t sign up for a kid when Ciri started to live with me. She didn’t sign up for a lot of the shit I had going on back then. And we broke up over that more than once.” He swallowed. “At least, you understand where I’m at. With… well. Everything. I… I really like that about us. I don’t have to explain myself for being sad or stressed. You understand.”

For a long moment, Emhyr didn’t say anything. Geralt could feel him struggling. Not exactly physically, but he knew he was. “I’ll walk away,” Emhyr promised. “I’ll walk away before the fighting gets too bad. Ok?”

“Yeah.” Geralt let out a shaky breath of relief. “Yeah. More than ok.”

Early Saturday morning, Geralt unlocked the door for his flat. Probably for the last time, he thought with a pang in his chest. He’d told Yen and Lambert to meet him here to help him take apart the furniture. Most of their stuff had found its way over to the house already over the past months, especially clothes and all of the things Ciri needed for school.

Or at least so had he thought before he walked through the three room apartment to take stock. His closet was still half full. The bookcase in the living room hadn’t been touched. He hadn’t even started packing up the kitchen yet. 

Only Ciri was on schedule. She had boxes packed and labeled in her room, with only the bed, desk and closet still standing. Geralt was vaguely proud of how responsibly she’d been about the move. 

She would be packing up her room at the house with Cerys so she could move into the basement. The plan was that while she was busy with that, Eskel would help Emhyr with the furniture from her old room. Ciri and Emhyr had taken care of the shelves in the basement themselves near the end of her break. It had taken them a whole day, and, as Emhyr had told Geralt afterwards, helped them talk about a few things while they were busy. Craftsmen had put in a new floor during the past week. Geralt had been amazed how fast renovations could go when you could just spend the money for it. 

Alone as he was while he still waited on his helpers, Geralt looked around the living room with mild desperation. He had no idea where to start. He’d had to promise Ciri and Emhyr he wouldn’t lift any box with something inside. So there wasn’t much he could do. He had folded boxes to be filled the last time he’d been in the apartment because the little one had decided to be a pain about anything else. So that wasn’t necessary anymore. Kitchen first, he reasoned with himself, because that was still by far the biggest task. 

He’d just started to put pots and pans into a box when the doorbell announced the first arrival. To his surprise, he didn’t recognize the voice over the intercom at first. “Mr Rivia?” a young man’s voice asked. “Ciri said you could use some help and, oh, yes, it’s me, Hjalmar.”

Geralt let out a sigh of relief. He hadn’t expected Ciri to tell anyone or even organize additional help. But he was thankful. After he’d buzzed Hjalmar in, he texted her as much.

“Hi,” Hjalmar greeted as he entered. He was smiling as he looked around until he found Geralt in the kitchen. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Got my dad’s car for today, too, so I can drive around boxes.”

Geralt was sure he’d never felt as thankful at the sight of a teenage boy. He was tempted to hug Hjalmar just for being there. Hormones, he told himself, and cleared his throat. “You can start by packing books in the boxes, I guess? Check that you can still lift ‘em regularly so they don’t get too heavy and if there’s still space just… grab something light, like clothes or pillows or something. My closet’s still full and…” He pushed his hair out of his face as he took a deep breath. “Thanks, Hjalmar. Just… thanks. It’s great you’re here.”

“N B D, Mr Rivia.” Hjalmar had already started on the books. “As Ciri said, you got enough on your plate already.”

Geralt snorted. “When did you kids become so damn sensible.”

“Single parents, Mr Rivia. Always gotta pull some weight with only a single parent.” He lifted the box to make sure it wasn’t too heavy. “So we’re there for friends and family.”

“Right. Remind me when you’re leaving for college next summer and need help.”

“Will do, sir!” Hjalmar’s smile was cheeky, so he had to know that Geralt didn’t like being called “sir” by the friends of his daughter. Geralt was saved from having to react to that by the bell. Hjalmar closed the box he’d filled full with books. “I’ll get that on my way down to the car.”

“You do that.” Geralt nodded. “Remember to mark the boxes!” he called after Hjalmar because he’d almost forgotten himself. Ciri had been smart enough to leave markers with all boxes to remind him. Pulling some weight indeed.

Hjalmar returned with Yen and Lambert in tow. After some quick greetings, Lambert and Hjalmar started on the furniture in Ciri’s room. Yen came over to the kitchen to help Geralt there.

“How’re you doing?” she asked softly. Geralt could tell she was trying very much not to look at him below the neck. “And don’t think I can’t tell what you’re doing here. I’m not gonna hurt him much.”

“Yen,” Geralt sighed. “I’m just trying to minimize my stress, alright? And I can’t help with the stuff that needs doing at the house anyway. So. Thought I wanna see you sometime today.”

“Sure.” She closed the second box and wrote “kitchen” on it in big letters. 

Geralt knew the tone. She didn’t believe him, because she had made up her mind to be angry at him. All he could do was wait until she blew up in his face. He’d always hated that. But saying anything too soon would only add to her anger.

She capped the marker with force and smacked it flat on the counter. “You could have told me in person, you know?!” she snapped as she whipped around. “Instead of hiding for weeks! Months! From me! From all your friends! And then you think you could get away with a short text? You’ve been avoiding everyone! Lambert told me. You’re not even having lunch with him most of the time. Instead you hole up in your office like some hermit or… or wounded animal. Talk to us. We worry about you. We’re your friends. We’ve been friends forever. You can talk to us. To me. But, it’s like you don’t even trust me.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Geralt admitted softly. He hated how much it felt like their fights when they’d been a couple and fought as quietly as they could in this exact kitchen. And with his hands busy, he couldn’t even put them over his belly like he instinctively wanted to. “I thought about it. But I was terrified from the moment I found out. Still am, actually. Just not panicking as much anymore.”

“Do you love him?” she hissed, completely ignoring what he’d said. “Or did you just hand your life over like a good little omega because he fucked you once? Did he bond you and you’re hiding that, too?”

Geralt’s hands clenched around the stack of kitchen towels he was holding. “Would you have come if I’d asked you to bring me suppressants?” he snapped back. “Because that was what did it. And I didn’t even have to ask for that. He wasn’t anything but nice and helpful and  _ there _ for me. And he hasn’t stopped being there since. I haven’t been to the OB-Gyn alone once! You know how much I hate going there. Would you have done that for me? And Ciri’s thrilled, too. So, right now, sleeping with Emhyr then looks like the best dumb fucking decision of my life.”

Yen slammed the newly filled box of pots and kitchen odds and ends on the counter with force. “You didn’t answer a single one of my questions.” Fuming, she stalked after Geralt to the living room. “Do you love him?”

“Yeah. You know what? Yes. I do,” he growled. “Not that it matters much. I’m thirty-fucking-eight, seven months pregnant with my first baby. I got someone I trust enough to do this parenting shit with me until both our kids are all grown up. So. It really. Really. Doesn’t matter how much I love him. Love won’t get us past five years. But trust will. Being reliable will. And you know what? Financial security is kinda nice, too.”

Yen didn’t say anything after that. She just silently and angrily packed up the rest of the books alongside Geralt. They moved on to all those tiny knick knacks that accumulated over the years, still in silence. It wasn’t until they were finished with the kitchen and living room both, that Yen continued the conversation, much gentler now: “How  _ are  _ you doing, Geralt? You and the baby.”

Geralt shrugged. “Good, I guess? It’s mostly them kicking and I’m the one getting kicked, but that’s how it’s meant to be, right? Doc’s happy. And pregnancy class helps a lot, actually.”

“Pregnancy class?” Yen snorted. “Really?”

“Yeah. Or did you learn anything in high school about pregnancy in male omegas? Because I didn’t know shit.” Geralt shrugged. “At least now I have an idea how contractions will feel and what to do the next six months when I’m stuck or in pain. I’ve never changed a diaper before.” He smiled. “Ok, don’t hold that against him, but Emhyr kept laughing at me for that lesson. Of course, he’s already done it for almost two years with Ciri, but man, I’m not looking forward to doing that on a squirming little baby.”

“I can’t even imagine him changing a single diaper,” Yen huffed. “Can you?”

At that, Geralt smirked. “Don’t have to. I’ve seen it. Vetta and him, they were a mess the first couple of months. Barely holding it together. I hope we’ll do better now but I don’t even know.”

Yen paused to stare at him.

“What?” Geralt asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“You called her Vetta again.”

Geralt blinked. He hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t called her that since she’d died. She’d been Pavetta or Ciri’s mom or, when he had to fill in forms as Ciri’s guardian, Pavetta Fiona Elen Emreis née Riannon to him. But never Vetta. He hadn’t even done it consciously. It was just another way he’d kept his emotional distance.

“I didn’t even notice,” he said, belatedly, wiping his arm across his eyes.

Yen found his hand and squeezed it. “You’re finally ready to talk about her?”

“Ciri asked. Gods, it’s hard. Still. Every time.” He stuffed an armful of clothes into a box Yen was holding open for him. “But it’s good to remember the happy times we had with her.”

Yen nudged him. “If you can talk about Pavetta again, maybe, just maybe, Emhyr deserves a shred of benefit of doubt.” She let out a frustrated sigh as she pushed her hair out of her face. “Even though I still can’t believe you slept with him.” She glowered at his bed as if it had been at fault, too.

“Am sleeping,” Geralt corrected. He wasn’t sure where that came from. It could be a very suicidal thing to say to Yen of all people. “And I wasn’t thinking. I was in heat, I’d jerked off so much already and nothing was enough. Seriously, I’d forgotten how bad heats are when you’re single. And then Ciri drags him into it and he takes care of me and… my instincts overruled my brain, I guess.” He’d gone over it at least a million times in his head. “No regrets, though. We should have followed your suggestion and just work out our issues by fucking ages ago.”

“That’s your take-away, Geralt? Really?” She was between laughing and dabbing at tears. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “But the two months it took me to realize just how much of an idiot I am were actually nice. No mean spirited fights, better coordination, teasing him got me about one joke a week, which was really impressive. I’m good now, really.” He laughed. “We’ll just have to work out a convincing lie for strangers about how we met.”

“You can always say the women in your life set you up and it worked out,” Yen suggested. They’d already packed three boxes and Geralt was still feeling like they’d barely started on his bedroom. “But I want favorite aunt privileges with the baby. Already got them with Ciri anyway.”

“Ciri loves you,” Geralt smirked. “You’re her second favorite woman in the world.”

Yen turned around to stare at him open-mouthed, “Second? Dish, Geralt, since when am I the second favorite?”

“Since Cerys,” Geralt snorted.

He watched Yen’s eyes light up for the first time in months. “Tell me  _ everything! _ ”

He shared all he knew while they continued to pack up his former bedroom. Which admittedly wasn’t much. But it made Yen laugh and tease him and just generally made him feel like they were good again. He’d missed it. He’d missed her. He hadn’t even realized so much he’d missed her until they were back to joking and laughing together.

When they were finally done packing, about three hours in, Geralt was completely exhausted. Hjalmar and Lambert had packed his car first, so Geralt could shuttle boxes over to the house and then rest for the time it took to unload or reload his car. He was just so tired. Three hours, and he was already exhausted. He tried to be less frustrated, to give himself a break, but it was hard to feel so useless when everyone around him was there to help him. 

Worst part was, he hadn’t properly seen Ciri and Emhyr since breakfast and desperately wanted to know how they were holding up, too. He wanted to tell Emhyr that he’d worked it out with Yen, but he didn’t even manage to catch him for more than the moment it took to hand him and Eskel a bottle of water each. Ciri was too busy to talk to him, too. She’d even shooed him away when he tried to make sure she and Cerys were drinking enough.

He complained about it to Yen and Lambert when he was back in front of the apartment building waiting for them to reload his car. They laughed at him.

“Darling, you said it yourself, you’re seven months pregnant,” Yen reminded him. “Don’t think anyone will let you do much today. Unpack boxes at the house, provide snacks and water, if you have to do more with your hands.”

Geralt groaned. “I hate being this helpless.”

“Well, don’t let yourself get knocked up next time then,” Lambert laughed.

“Easy for you to say,” Geralt snorted. “But, yeah, not doing this again, that’s for sure. One was plenty, two is enough.”

“Y’hear that, Hjalmar? Don’t have kids!” Lambert yelled over his shoulder. Geralt punched his arm for it but that only made Lambert grin wider.

“God, you’re such an ass sometimes,” Geralt murmured. “Here, wanna feel the baby kick? Maybe that’ll change your mind. I’m sure Keira’d love nothing more than to make an honest man out of you.”

“Yeah, that ain’t happening any time soon.” Lambert stopped and stared as Geralt pressed his hand flat on his belly. He swallowed. “...that doesn’t freak you out? Something moving inside you like that.”

Geralt shook his head. He let go of Lambert’s hand, who immediately pulled it back. “Not anymore. And it’s someone, not something.”

“How long has … have they been… moving like that?” Lambert asked slowly. Geralt could tell that his friend was almost as curious as he was horrified.

“Babies start moving at around week sixteen.” Geralt shrugged. “So, I’ve over three months of practice with it now.”

Lambert was clearly doing some math in his head before he answered. “Five months of getting kicked. Yikes.”

“Didn’t start with kicks.” Geralt stroked a hand over his belly. “But they’ve been quite active from the beginning.”

“I did want to ask, Geralt,” Yen interrupted, wiping her forehead. “You keep saying  _ they.  _ Didn’t you ask about the sex or are you just keeping it to yourself?”

“Didn’t ask.” Geralt could feel his ears heat up. He knew he was supposed to ask, but hadn’t been able to. They’d eventually decided to let it be a surprise and go with gender neutral clothes and nursery decor to start with. “Don’t really think it matters.”

Yen shook her head. “Sounds like you. It really does.”

Behind them, Lambert slammed the trunk closed. “Ready to go,” he announced. “And don’t come back. With the kid’s car and mine, we’ll manage the rest of your stuff alone.”

“Thanks, man,” Geralt said, genuinely thankful. He clasped Lambert’s hand and pulled him into an one armed hug. “Let me know if you need any snacks or more water.”

Geralt spent the rest of the afternoon in and around the kitchen at the house. He tried to unpack his books and sort through them but the little one was too active to do that for long. There wasn’t much more for him to unpack. He’d resigned himself to sorting his clothes into keepers and donations. In between, he walked around, because the little one calmed down from the motion and made sure everyone was still doing well.

It was long past noon when Lambert and Hjalmar parked their cars outside for good. The unloading would go quick, with Ciri, Cerys and Eskel helping as well. Ciri had taken over the coordination, telling everyone where to take what. Most of her things went down into the basement, where they’d have to put the desk, closet and bed back up. She’d decided to keep the bed from the apartment and both desks. There was, as far as Geralt was aware, a detailed plan. He’d just have to wait for Ciri to have it all set up the way she wanted.

He ordered pizza for everyone while Ciri had her furniture set up. It was the last thing that had to happen. It would be a nice end of the day, all of them having dinner together. The backyard was set with a big table and as many chairs as they had, which was just barely enough for everyone.

He knew Emhyr was still upstairs when he’d finished ordering. He’d said he wanted to have a look at the future nursery to figure out what needed to be fixed. Geralt had let the excuse slide. By now, he’d realized that Emhyr had a limited tolerance of people in private. The stress and general hubbub of the move had to have exhausted all of it. He probably needed some alone time or a hug or both. Geralt went looking for him to find out which.

He was surprised to hear Emhyr’s voice when he reached the second floor landing and then stopped in the hall when it was Yen who answered. “Just so you know, I still don’t like you.”

“I did not expect you to,” Emhyr responded. “I’m in fact surprised that you decided against assaulting me. Geralt showed me the texts about the poison. And the arson. And the property damage.”

Yen huffed. “I let it all out Geralt and we worked through it. And. Urgh! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…” She groaned in frustration. “This whole… thing… might actually be good for Geralt and Ciri. And the baby. That’s what matters to me.” She paused, probably to glower at Emhyr, but Geralt didn’t dare to check. “Not you. You can rot for all I care.”

“Didn’t think I would matter,” Emhyr huffed, but he sounded strangely amused. “I hope you don’t think this has all been some kind of elaborate plan. Because I didn’t plan any of this.”

“Gods, no.” If Geralt hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Yen, too, was laughing. “Even you’d have tried charming him first.”

“In my defense, I did try charming, before and after.” That was news to Geralt. He hadn’t ever noticed Emhyr trying anything to win him over aside from basic niceties and treating him like family. They’d both been going from one crisis to the next. Some of them had admittedly been of Geralt’s own making. There was no way there’d been some romantic gestures Geralt had completely missed, right? While he was still wracking his brain, Emhyr went on: “Romance doesn’t work on Geralt. Or at least I haven’t worked out anything that’s manageable in our situation.”

“Short of a grand, expensive dinner date, nothing will make him even consider he’s being courted. Been there.” Yen was laughing now. Really, definitely, laughing. “He’s like a cat sometimes. Feed him, let him have his own life, make sure there are warm spots in the sun to nap in, and he’s happy.”

“I’m sure he’s a little more complicated than that.” Emhyr sighed, loud enough for Geralt to hear. “Honestly, it was a matter of listening, in the end. To his needs. To my own. To Ciri’s. It still is. And we need to communicate to balance all those needs. Gods know we need to. And with Geralt, I have to have all those talks we both rather not have.”

“I know,” Yen said softly. “He called your wife Vetta again earlier. He hasn’t called her that in eleven years. That’s what convinced me. And I hate it. Just so we’re clear. I hate that I can see the two of you together. But I’ve seen him break apart over her death. When he thought he could hide it. I don’t ever want to see him like that again.”

“I… can only imagine.” Emhyr paused. “I should have been here for that. I wasn’t. And I will never be able to make up for that. But I… There’s something I wanted to ask. In case you decided to give me a chance, too.” He cleared his throat. “I haven’t spoken about this with Geralt. But, if you’d agree, I’d like you to be the little one’s godmother. I know you’d fight for them just like you fought for Ciri. And you will love them just as much as Ciri, if you have the chance.”

“That… wow… that’s a lot… to suddenly spring on someone.” Something thumped against the wall. “Don’t forget, I saw what Geralt went through. I saw the worst case scenario consequences.” Yen cleared her throat. “I’m not saying no. I just have to think about it. And you should probably tell Geralt you asked me. Not that he’ll be against it. But you should have told him first.”

“Of course. You still have two months to decide. I dearly hope you still have two months. There’s still so much to prepare…”

Geralt decided he’d eavesdropped long enough. But instead of heading back down, he knocked against the doorframe to the nursery. “You… uh… you’re not trying to kill each other, are you?” he asked. Emhyr was leaning against the far wall. He looked mostly relaxed. Yen was standing about two steps from the door and had to turn around to look at Geralt.

“I’d never,” she said, faking offense. “I was just giving him a shovel talk.”

“Right.” Geralt cleared his throat. “Pizza’s gonna be here any minute and I could do with some help setting the table.”

“I’ll go get Ciri and the others.” Yen pulled him into a quick hug. “Don’t screw this up,” she whispered. “And don’t let him screw this up either.”

“I won’t. Promise.” Geralt hugged her back. “Thanks, Yen. Thanks. I can’t say this enough. I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you don’t.” In pulling back, she booped his nose. “You’re lucky I like you anyway.” With that, she left. Geralt could hear her walking down the stairs.

“You alright?” he asked when he was sure Yen was well out of earshot.

Emhyr nodded. “Exhausted. Drained. But otherwise fine. How’re you doing?”

“Tired.” Geralt put his hands on his stomach. “The little one didn’t appreciate me packing all those boxes and threw a tantrum when I tried to unpack the ones in the living room. Guess we’ll have to sort the books together.”

“Sounds good.” Emhyr held out his hand and Geralt took it easily, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. Or at least Emhyr was wrapping his arms around him while they leaned against each other for support. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“I… when I was talking to Yennefer just now… I asked her if she’d be the little one’s godmother,” Emhyr murmured, still not letting go. “I thought it would be in your interest, too. Just in case.”

Geralt nodded. A lump was blocking his throat all of a sudden. “I’m sure she’ll be great. I mean, Ciri already loves her.”

“I know.” Very slowly, Emhyr let go, but not before pressing a brief kiss to Geralt’s lips. “You said something about pizza?”

“Yeah,” Geralt smiled. “C’mon, lets get downstairs before it gets here. I’m sure everyone is hungry already.”


	7. Chapter 7

Geralt had to admit, being on maternity leave felt strange. He’d seen it coming for weeks, and yet, it had still snuck up on him. He’d handed over his last bits of work to Lambert. His friends had even organized a send off meeting slash party with cake and a little present in the form of a gift card for the local layette store.

A week later, and he was already almost bored out of his mind while also too pregnant to do much anyway. So he was reading. Or playing around with the IKEA website to decide how he wanted the nursery to be set up. Emhyr had paid Ciri to paint the room. She’d done it the previous weekend, with the help of Cerys. Now, the nursery was empty, but at least freshly painted, white on three walls and one in sky blue with little white clouds. There had barely even been any paint drops on the tarpaulin they’d put on the floor and none below. Ciri had been beaming when Emhyr’d praised her for it, and then some more when he’d handed her the promised payment.

Geralt himself was still looking for anything to do. According to all the baby books, it was now an excellent time to learn how to knit and make at least five complete outfits for the baby. Geralt had tried it and quickly learned one thing: he had no idea how to knit and wasn’t learning it any time soon. He had, however, gotten a lot of practice with untangling knots. 

So when Emhyr’d asked him to come pick him up from work on Friday afternoon, he’d readily jumped at the opportunity. It only occurred to him that he hadn’t exactly thought it all through when he was parking his, admittedly a little banged up, car in the underground garage that belonged to Emhyr’s law firm. His car stood out like a sore thumb between the expensive sedans and sports cars that were parked there. It only got worse from there. He quickly realized that he was entirely underdressed in his loose shirt and maternity jeans when he entered the elevator. Getting out of it, he tugged at his shirt, feeling out of place. The look the young man behind the reception desk didn’t help, either. Still, as Geralt approached, the young man asked, “Can I help you…” He paused to look Geralt up and down, staring an uncomfortably long time at his belly. “Sir?”

“I’m here to see Emhyr,” Geralt said, drawing himself up so he could at least pretend to himself that he was feeling like he had every right to be here. Belatedly, he realized that Emhyr probably wasn’t going by his first name around a firm that had his name on the wall in giant letters right behind the reception desk. “Er, I mean Mr Emreis.”

The young man looked him up and down again. “Do you have an appointment?” He asked in a tone that made it clear he very much doubted it and in any case couldn’t afford it if he had. 

It made Geralt growl in frustration. “Why don’t you ask his assistant?”

“I’ll take that as a no, sir. Good day.” And with that, the young man turned to his computer and started to pretend he was busy typing. 

Instead of reaching over the desk and shaking the little prick until he saw sense, Geralt took out his phone and simply called Emhyr. And because he was still mad at the receptionist, he turned on the speaker and put the phone on the desk.

Emhyr picked up after the third ring. “Geralt?”

“Hey honey,” Geralt said, smirking at the receptionist who’d suddenly stopped typing and had gone very pale. “I’m here to pick you up, but your receptionist won’t let me in.”

“Ah.” He could hear mouse clicks from the other end of the line. “Sorry about that, I should have known that an appointment in the company calendar would be needed. Come in. And tell the receptionist to come see me after he made sure you’re comfortable while you wait for me to finish up here.”

“Will do,” Geralt said with a serene smile, before he ended the call. “Well?” He asked the receptionist.

The young man scrambled to his feet. “If you’d follow me, sir,” he said, suddenly very polite, even holding the door for Geralt. He led Geralt into a small, but comfortable meeting room. “Can I offer you any refreshments? Tea, coffee, water?”

Geralt shot the receptionist a flat look. “Water’s fine. No caffeine for  _ us _ .” To underline his point, he put a hand on his belly, to the horror of the receptionist who’d tried to look everywhere but at the baby bump.

Still, within half a minute, Geralt had a glass and a cool bottle of water on the table in front of him. “Please let me know if you need anything else,” the young man said, before he very much tried to hide that he was fleeing from the room.

“Please don’t fire the kid,” Geralt texted Emhyr, feeling suddenly a little guilty.

After that, he played around on his phone, sipped at the water and tried to relax. The interior of the firm looked even more intimidating than the outside. It had clearly been designed to impress everyone who dared to set foot inside, not just the clients, but especially their opponents and prospective business partners. There was a lot of black and gold and shiny surfaces.

Just as Geralt idly wondered if the plants in the room were real or very good fakes, he noticed a woman in an expensive looking suit stop outside the meeting room. She looked at him for a moment, then smiled, and entered.

“I’m just waiting for Emhyr,” Geralt told her before she could even say anything. The atmosphere of the firm was getting on his nerves.

The woman looked at him, her eyes flickering only briefly away from his face. “Hm, let me guess, trying to settle with your employer over maternity leave?”

“Nah.” Geralt shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I somehow had no problem with that.”

“Hm.” The woman tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Then what could it be, what could it be… Ah, alimony, maybe? Please, let me know if you need legal representation for a lawsuit.” She handed Geralt her business card. “Emhyr might be great with companies, but he lacks my experience with family law. Something to consider, don’t you think?”

Geralt snorted. “Yeah, I’m not exactly looking for another lawyer. But I’ll keep you in mind, just in case.”

“Too bad.” The woman smiled again. “Let me know when that changes. I’m sure we could make sure you’d never have to worry about anything, least of all your alpha.”

Ten minutes later, Geralt was finally taken into Emhyr’s office. He’d dreaded another offer of legal assistance the entire time.

“Are you alright?” Emhyr asked when he’d closed the door and were alone.

Geralt waved the question off. “Aside from the weird feeling I’ve just been asked if I’d like to sue you for everything you’re worth? Yeah. Fine.”

It got a smile from Emhyr, a tiny one but definitely there. “You could just ask.” He rose from his seat so he could hug Geralt briefly. Then he pecked Geralt’s lips before sitting down again, motioning for Geralt to do the same.

“I know I could just ask,” Geralt said when he was seated, rubbing his hands over his face. “That’s why it was so surreal. Didn’t you tell anyone about me?”

“I did.” The desk chair squeaked softly as Emhyr leaned back. “But apparently nobody listened.”

Geralt huffed. “Evidently. So, ready to leave?”

“In a moment. I actually had some small matters to settle while you’re here.” From a drawer in his desk, Emhyr produced a stack of papers. “It’s nothing too urgent. Or important.” Emhyr waved a hand. “I want your consent to set up a trust fund for the baby.” He slid a stack of papers across the desk. “The terms I was thinking of are all in there. It is, of course, still missing the beneficiary’s name, but other than that, it’s ready to be signed and notarized. And speaking of signing…” He took another stack of papers and flipped through it until he’d reached a sticky note in the shape of an arrow. There were three more sticking out of the stack. He handed it over to Geralt, together with a heavy pen. “If you’d please sign and initial as indicated.”

Geralt did, noticing Emhyr’d already signed and initialled before. When he was done, he flipped back to the title page and read. He could feel the blood drain from his face, making him dizzy. “Did I just accept half the house?!” he pressed out.

“Yes.” Emhyr snatched the papers back a little too quickly.

“Why?”

“Just in case.” Emhyr’s mask of indifference was back in place. “Ciri and the baby are set, through trusts and inheritance. You were not. That has now been rectified.”

All Geralt managed to get out in response were strangled noises of distress. Half a house that was probably worth hundreds of thousands in total. Just like that. As a gift. He had never thought he’d be able to own a house, let alone in a nice suburb. It was a bit much. “Can’t you just… marry me like a normal person?” he groaned out. That was what they were supposed to do, wasn’t it? Marry to be legally bound and to officially become next of kin?

Emhyr looked somewhat surprised. “...would you want that?”

“I…” Geralt started and then deflated. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle a wedding under the current circumstances. And it was a bit soon. Even if imagining it made him very happy. “I dunno. Yes. No. Not now?”

Emhyr smiled a tight little smile. “And that is why you now own half our house.”

“You still could have asked me first.” Geralt crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was trying to pout but it didn’t work. The more he thought about it, the more he was impressed and thankful for what Emhyr had done. Besides, he could have read what he was signing beforehand.

“I thought it would save us a lengthy discussion. This would probably be the wrong time to tell you that you’ve been the beneficiary of one of my life insurance policies, too?”

Geralt groaned. He’d managed for months not to think about the size of Emhyr’s personal fortune. He always had a vague idea of it, thanks to saving accounts in Ciri’s name that he’d learned of after Calathe’s death. But the thought of owning a part of that himself was overwhelming, to say the least. Especially since his own bank account had never exceeded a couple of thousand in savings for emergencies, what with living costs and student loan payments.

“Just… don’t die on me, alright?”

“Your concern is touching.” Emhyr rolled his eyes, but he was smiling at Geralt. “Other people would rejoice at the opportunity to inherit a large sum of money.”

Geralt shook his head. “C’mon. Let’s just get to the Ikea so I can find a reason to be mad at you. Because right now I don’t know what exactly I’m feeling towards you.”

Emhyr cleared the papers of his desk. “Would you like to read the trust fund proposal?”

Geralt shook his head and handed that stack of papers back to Emhyr. “I’m good. I read Ciri’s, was horrified at the sum for a good long while and then thankful that she won’t have to worry about college. Or buying a house. Or medical emergencies. So. Really. I’m good. I don’t know how to handle so much money. And I don’t want to know where that money even came from, either. Just treat both kids the same.”

“As I understand it, that money is the result of centuries of trade, piracy, and stock trade. But I never looked too deeply into it, either.” Emhyr stood, looked around the spotless room, smoothed down his suit jacket before doing the buttons up and then stepped around the desk to take Geralt’s hand. “Just to make sure everyone remembers you next time.”

“A public display of affection?” Geralt faked shock. “Emhyr!”

“Hush.” Emhyr pressed a quick kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “I need the precedent for when I take time off for the baby.”

Geralt was still laughing when they left the office. He did his best to ignore the sudden silence and the stares. He couldn’t ignore the smile of the lawyer who’d prepositioned him earlier. It was all too knowing for his liking. 

There was some silent communication between her and Emhyr that had Emhyr tighten his hold around Geralt’s arm and pull him closer. “Stop gawking,” Emhyr snapped at the aides and interns staring at them. “And get back to work!” Much softer, only for Geralt to hear, he added: “I think now would be a good time to kiss.”

Geralt bit his lips to hide his smile when he took Emhyr’s face in both hands and kissed him with enthusiasm. There were a few stifled gasps from the bullpen. When he noticed the amused glint in Emhyr’s eyes, he decided to fully lean into it. Hugging Emhyr’s arm and pressing as much of his body against him, he fluted, “Honey, how long do you want me to stand around in this stuffy office? C’mon, let’s gooooo.”

Emhyr was shaking with laughter the entire elevator ride down to the car, so it was definitely worth it.

* * *

They picked Ciri up from school on their way to the Ikea. She was pretending to be mortified, but she still hugged them both in greeting. For the entire drive, she kept chattering about what her new room still needed. And what she thought the baby needed. She was getting more and more excited for the baby lately. It meant one less thing to worry about for Geralt. Ciri would be a great and loving big sister. 

As expected on a friday afternoon, the parking lot was already pretty full. It was no different inside. But Ciri skipped up the stairs two at a time anyway, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. It was enough that Emhyr had to admonish her, “Nursery furniture first, rug and lights for your room second.”

Ciri grinned broadly. “I know, father.”

Geralt was leaning against Emhyr while they walked through the furniture exhibition and sample rooms. Ciri was walking slightly ahead, armed with paper, pencil and a large yellow bag. Every once in a while she would stop to drag her fathers over to some piece of furniture, explaining how she thought it would totally be great for the nursery.

“What do you think?” Emhyr asked when they’d finally found the nursery in a corner of the sample rooms. He was looking critically at the crib, but it seemed to withstand closer scrutiny by what Geralt could read in Emhyr’s expression.

“I like the little fabric thingy over it,” Geralt said, pointing up. “The… what’s it called… canopy? And…” He snatched the stuffed animal out of the crib. “I also like the non-descript sauropod. Can’t say much about the crib itself. White’s a good color, makes the room bright. I’d like wooden handles on the closets and the dresser.” Geralt peered at the list of things to buy they’d made before. Then, he looked around the room. “Here, that’s the changing unit we were talking about. That plus a dresser has to be enough for the baby clothes. But we might need a shelf to go with it for toys.”

“And a chest?” Emhyr suggested. He was noting down the shelf idea. 

“Yeah, probably.” Geralt shrugged. He was trying to come around to the idea that he didn’t have to think about the cost of it all since Emhyr had insisted on paying for everything. “Anything we’re missing, Ciri?”

“Measuring stickers?” She pointed at a tree shaped wall sticker with numbers on it. “I saw a picture of me and mom measuring my height. It looked like it was fun. And you’re supposed to keep notes of a toddler's growth, right? Besides, it’s cute. And I second the dino! I want one, too.”

Emhyr wrote down “dinosaurs x2” on his list, then looked at Geralt.

“I’m too old for stuffed dinosaurs,” Geralt said quickly.

Emhyr merely hummed. “Not what I was thinking about. Ciri, would you…?”

“Make sure our list is up to date so we can find everything downstairs in the warehouse? Sure!” She was doing her best to appear responsible. And she was good at it. 

Geralt ruffled her hair. “Meet you at the stuffed animals, cub.”

It turned out what Emhyr had been thinking about was a comfortable chair for the nursery. At Geralt’s dubious look, he elaborated: “In case you ever wanted privacy with the baby. Or, later, it’ll probably be more comfortable than sitting on the edge of a toddler’s bed for good night stories.”

Geralt had to agree that that did sound reasonable. It also made him think of holding their baby in his arms, exhausted, trying to get it to drink so he could stagger to bed. “Ok, yeah, chair. For sleeping in.”

“That’s what I mean, yes,” Emhyr smiled. He pecked Geralt’s cheek.

They looked around for a while, eventually agreeing on an armchair that could be made to rock a little. Too lazy to copy the number, Geralt took a photo of the tag and sent it to Emhyr, before they went to look for Ciri. They found her arms deep into a basket full of soft dinosaur toys. She beamed when she saw Geralt and skipped up to him, holding a T rex in front of her face.

“Look into his eyes and tell me he doesn’t know his cousin 66 million years removed is a Cassowary,” Ciri said, in her best Yen expression.

Geralt took the featherless T rex from her. “I think her favorite anti walking bird statement goes the other way round. But you’re right. No T rex or we’ll never ever hear the end of it.”

Ciri grinned. “Already picked the plushies for me and the little one.” She turned, so Geralt could see the heads of two sauropods sticking out of the yellow bag she was carrying. A moment later, she looped her arm through Geralt’s free one. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

“Yeah. And now you and your father get to lug around the parts downstairs.” Geralt grinned at Emhyr. “Never thought I’d see you do manual labor two weekends in a row.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” Emhyr replied. “These are unique circumstances right now.”

“I know.” Geralt leaned against his side. “Don’t I know.” He glanced over to Ciri. “What do you still need for your room?”

“Lights! And a rug, and…” Ciri started to list what her room was apparently still missing while they made their way down the stairs, Geralt maybe a little slower and more careful than his family.

Emhyr was being patient with him. He kept pace and stopped for Geralt when he needed a break at the end of the stairs. “Do you want to go sit in the car?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair from Geralt’s face. “We can do the rest on our own. It’ll likely take a while, though.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. He was holding his belly and felt like he should definitely sit down but he didn’t want to nap in the car for the next hour or how ever long it would take them to finish. “I’m good. Just a little tired. And Ciri will need help picking a rug. I know her. She wants the help.”   
“And you don’t think I’m prepared to give it?” Emhyr looked a little insulted, but his voice sounded amiable.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I think you’ll just tell her to get both.”

Emhyr laughed and kissed Geralt’s cheek. He didn’t deny it, though. “Do I at least get to tell her to slow down a little?” He was watching Ciri take a cart and push it down the path.

“Hm, no,” Geralt decided after a moment. “She’ll just have to wait until we get there. Or slow down on her own. She’s old enough to know that.”

“Alright.” They walked after her at a much slower pace, past the kitchen implements. Ciri was waiting for them at the storage and organizing stuff, studying the list they’d written and searching for the boxes and other things they’d decided they’d need. She was putting folded up boxes into the cart already by the time her fathers had caught up to her.

“See? She’s perfectly on top of it all,” Geralt told Emhyr loud enough for Ciri to hear it as well.

She beamed at him. “Any time, dad. It’s barely any different from getting the groceries.” She looked at her fathers. “But I will need help with the furniture.”

Geralt nudged her, grinning. “Afraid your father can’t help you lift the packages?”

“I’ll have you know I did my fair share last weekend,” Emhyr huffed. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Father can help. I’m more worried you want to help, too,” Ciri admitted as she pushed on over to the rugs. “You can’t, dad. We can do this without you. Promise.”

“Way to make me feel useless,” Geralt snorted.

“I’m not.” Ciri hugged him from the side. “You gotta carry my little sibling around, that’s way more important and harder than lugging furniture boxes.”

“I know, people keep telling me,” Geralt sighed. “But I am allowed to hate it, just a little, alright?”

“Alright.”Ciri hugged him harder. “So, what do you think for my room? I want a rug in the middle and another under the desks.”   
“One to sit on and one to keep your naked feet warm?”

Ciri nodded. 

“You could just wear slippers in the house,” Geralt reminded her.

“Urgh, no. Rugs!” Ciri demanded. “Besides, I sit so much at my desk with homework, I want to be comfortable.”

“Alright alright.” Geralt raised his hands. “So, what about a fuzzy one under the desk and a round carpet for the room?”

Ciri nodded and led him over to the carpets and rugs. It took her a while to decide on the exact carpet and rug she deemed perfect, but Geralt listened to her patiently, only offering his opinion when asked. Finally, when she was sure about the carpet but still debating two different colors for the rug, she turned to Emhyr, who’d been waiting around the faux fur spreads and play carpets with a thoughtful expression. “Father, blue or green?”

Emhyr took a moment to respond, looking surprised to be included. “Green, I think. To keep with the forest theme of the decor you wanted.”

Ciri nodded and hauled the green rug onto the cart. “What were you thinking about?”

“I was wondering if you’d seen any of your old stuff during the move,” he replied. “I remember you liked to play on a carpet with roads and buildings printed on it and that your mother used to put you down on a sheepskin when you’d just learned how to roll over and crawl.”

Ciri thought for a moment, but then shook her head. “No, sorry, I don’t think I did.”

“The play rug might be lost forever,” Geralt offered. “I think I last saw it at Calanthe’s. Sorry. We could get a new one, if you’d like?”

Emhyr’s expression was a mix of surprise and relief. “I would like that, yes. Even though it’s silly and sentimental of me.”

“Not silly,” Geralt assured him as he lifted a faux sheepskin onto the cart, ignoring Ciri’s disapproving glare. “And only a little sentimental. C’mon, let’s find a play rug for the little one.”

The rest of their trip was as expected. Ciri found herself a lamp for her room and another for her desk and the wall by her bed and fairy lights for decoration, and more little things that Geralt would have told her she couldn’t have if he’d been the one paying for it. She knew, which was why she was quick to tell him she’d saved up for the decor and would pay for it herself. When Emhyr tried to tell her she didn’t have to, Geralt elbowed him in the ribs. While Ciri and Emhyr hunted down the boxes for the nursery furniture, Geralt was left to wait and sit around. He was sulking only a little, and only when Ciri wasn’t looking. Besides, he was tired and he wanted to sit down and get some weight off his lower back if he could help it.

Once they’d paid—Ciri, as promised, paying for her knick knacks with her own money and then getting two bags of cinnamon rolls while Emhyr was paying for the rest—and were back outside at the car, Geralt was suddenly glad they’d taken his car and not Emhyr’s. They barely got everything inside. They would never have managed that with Emhyr’s sedan. Exhausted as he felt, he handed the keys over to Emhyr without a comment. He dozed on the drive back home.

* * *

  
  


“So, I got kicked out of the house,” Geralt texted Yen. “To go layette shopping. Wanna come?”

In truth, he had only been banned to the living room while Ciri and Emhyr built the nursery furniture upstairs. But he was itching to help and leaving the house had been agreed to be a good idea by all three of them. He just didn’t want to go alone. Or try to go layette shopping with Emhyr again. The last time had been unpleasant to say the least. And from his parenting class friends he’d learned that it helped to have a female alpha along to deal with that.

It was Saturday morning, so he didn’t have to wait long for Yen to respond with a “Anything for my godchild :P omw to pick you up?”.

“Thanks,” Geralt sent back. “So you decided to become the godmother? Good for them. I’m glad.”

Yen didn’t respond to that. But when he left the house twenty minutes later, a list and Emhyr’s credit card in hand, he had to wait barely two minutes before Yen stopped her car at the curb. He climbed into the passenger seat and leant back with a groan.

“That bad?” she asked. She was wearing black sunglasses and a leather jacket, together with equally black boots and jeans. Geralt could see why Ciri had spent her first year of high school copying her looks. 

“Worse. I’m barely allowed to do anything anymore,” he sighed. “I still have six weeks to go. I’m not due until November. It’s not even October yet. But everyone treats me like a ticking time bomb. Like I’m about to go into labor any second.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me, let me know when that happens so I can drop you off at the hospital before you ruin the seat.” Yen smirked at him. “So, where to?”

“Wait.” Geralt opened the navigation app on his phone to put in the layette store. “There. Hope you’re ready for big decisions, like strollers.”

“Seriously?” Yen asked as she started to drive. “Shouldn’t Emhyr be doing that with you?”

“We tried,” Geralt admitted. “And we have agreed on the brand and minimum features for the car seat and stroller. I just didn’t want to order it all online, you know?”

“And…?” Yen coaxed.

“And the last time we went to that store, we got dirty looks and frosty service. I hope it’ll go better with you there,” Geralt sighed. “I hate this so much sometimes.”

At the next red light, Yen patted his knee. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just…” He growled. “Urgh. Half the time, pregnancy is great and I can’t wait for a baby and I know it’s the hormones but it also feels so right. But then the other half of the time, it’s like the whole world is set on making me feel miserable. I know, because I experience it again and again, that someone like me isn’t meant to have a baby. And even if I did, how dare I have it with a male alpha? Can’t I at least fit one part of the norms when my body already refuses to fit the other? Because that’s what it feels like, every time I’m treated like I’d been better off having been born a woman. The pregnancy clothes. The lack of service. The stares. It’s a lot. And as much as I hate being so… helpless, at least at home nobody treats me like a freak.”

The words had just burst from him. He’d missed talking to Yen like this. She was someone who understood.

“Fuck,” she cursed heartily. “Fuck. I mean. You told me. But fuck. I didn’t know! That’s so fucked up!”

It got her a smile from Geralt. “Thanks. For getting angry. And for coming along.”

“I’ll pose as your wife if that’s what it takes to get those jackasses off your back for a day,” Yen promised. “Besides, I did look at onesies lately and they’re all so cute and we have to buy a few, right? I can get into this.”

They switched topics for the rest of the drive to baby clothes and landed on the corvids Yen was training for her study at work. She was proud of her murder and Geralt was glad she was happy. They snagged a parking space near the entrance, to Geralt’s delight. Once inside, Yen looked around, before turning to Geralt expectantly and a little overwhelmed.

“What now?” she asked.

Geralt fumbled for the list he’d written with Emhyr. “Stroller and car seat, diaper bag ideally fitting the stroller, onesies, swaddling cloth, soft toys…”

“Alright,” Yen stopped him. She nodded. “Alright. Small and soft stuff we can pick ourselves first, stroller and anything we need assistance for second.”

Geralt nodded, grateful. “Okay. Yeah, we can do that.”

They spent a good half an hour looking at onesies. There was just so much choice. In the end, they had it narrowed down to fifteen. The compromise they reached was to pick five in larger sizes for later. Yen hadn’t been lying about her investment in baby clothes. It put Geralt’s mind at ease knowing he could just ask for her help at any time.

Picking a couple of toys took almost longer. They ended up with a mobile for above the crib, a soft silly looking duck with a music box inside and a plush raven Yen insisted on. Somehow, inbetween, cloth diapers and bibs and other small things also went into their cart.

“Why do babies need so much stuff?” Geralt groaned.

“Expensive stuff,” Yen added, trying to be unhelpful.

“Yeah, that somehow isn’t a problem,” Geralt grinned. “I’m marrying into money.”

“Marry? Really?”

Geralt shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. Eventually. Emhyr’s already bending the law to make sure we don’t have to and I still get all the benefits. I think. I don’t want to ask about details.”

Yen laughed, bending over the cart rail. “Does he know one of your biggest nightmares would be having money? Like. A large sum.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Geralt admitted. “He’s getting around to the idea but I got a plan for if he doesn’t. I’m just gifting it to Ciri and the baby and then I’ll donate the rest.”

Yen nodded. “Checks out.” She paused. “Wait. Did he actually ask you and you said no or did he just assume you wouldn’t want to marry?”

Geralt blinked. “He made me accept half the house. And when I asked about marriage he said he didn’t mind that I didn’t want to yet.”

“Oh Geralt.” Yen suddenly looked very sympathetic. “Please tell me you didn’t play the idea off as a joke.”

Geralt could feel his ears heating up. Yen groaned. “You’re making me feel sorry for Emhyr!” she complained. “Promise you’ll talk to him about it?”

Geralt swallowed. “Yeah.” He hadn’t even noticed what Emhyr’d been asking. He’d been too focused on the house and everything else. “I promise.”

Yen put an arm around his shoulder and hugged him. He returned the hug, still reeling. She smiled a crooked smile when she let go. “C’mon now, let’s find a sales assistant for the stroller. You can talk to him when you get home.”

* * *

Yen parked her car in front of the garage when they returned. She claimed it was more sensible and looking at the bags and boxes from the layette story, Geralt had to agree. He also wondered if they’d overdone it, even though he got little more than had been on their list.

He did insist on carrying at least one of the bags. By the time he’d reached the door, Ciri had already thrown it open in excitement. “Dad! We finished the nursery, come ooon, you have to see,” she said, not even waiting a second before taking his hand and dragging him upstairs.

Geralt stumbled after her and then dropped the back in the hallway when he saw the nursery. It was even better than they’d planned, better than he’d expected. It was, once you ignored the stack of empty boxes in one corner, perfect.

“Ciri,” he murmured. “I… this…”

“It’s great, right?” Cir was in the room, turning slowly. “Look! The dressing table. The closets with tiny little hangers. There’s a mirror here, too, and a measuring scale and… dad? Is everything alright?”

Instead of answering, Geralt hugged her for a long moment. He didn’t even know why he was crying. Probably because it really was perfect. From the crib to the chair to the carpet with the little buildings and roads on it and the drapes he’d never seen before and… He let go of Ciri to pick up the blanket on the bed.

“Wasn’t this yours?” he asked, a little shocked. “Where… where did you find it?”

“In the box from mom.” Ciri’s smile had dimmed a little. “I… I want the little one to have it. From me. Because we’re siblings, no matter what.” When Geralt didn’t react right away, she added: “I washed it. Don’t worry it doesn’t smell like cellar and old paper anymore.”

“That’s not…” Geralt shook his head. He had to wipe away some more tears. “No. It’s… perfect. And so are you. Just unexpected.”

“So, you like it?”

Geralt nodded emphatically. “Very much. You even set up a little bookshelf by the chair. You and your father really thought of everything.”

Ciri smiled again, but in a way that Geralt knew meant she wanted to ask for something she wasn’t sure she’d get. Geralt rolled his eyes at her. She huffed. “Will you teach me to change diapers when the baby gets here? I wanna be able to help, too.”

“Of course, Ciri.” Geralt blinked in surprise. “Whyever would we not wanna let you help?”

“I dunno!” Ciri threw up her hands. “Father said I was growing up so quick and then I thought you two might want me to ask for responsibilities less often and… urgh. Family. Feelings. Complicated. I’m being stupid.”

Geralt couldn’t help laughing. She sounded so much like them both. “We’ll figure it out one decision at a time, okay?”

“Okay.” Ciri hugged him again. “So, what’s in the bag?”

“Baby clothes,” Geralt replied. “There’s more in Yen’s car.” He groaned softly. “There’s so much more in Yen’s car. We bought so much stuff.”

Ciri was already looking through the bag, cooing softly ever so often. “We have to look at them with father,” she finally decided. “You gotta show off all the baby stuff.”

They found Yen and Emhyr still unloading the car. The box of the stroller stood right next to the garage with the car seat in its box on top. The half the bags had been carried into the living room, but the other half were still in the car, because Yen and Emhyr were talking quietly. She was leaning against the car, occasionally gesturing at the boxes. He stood in front of her, nodding along. Since he’d spent the day building Ikea furniture, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt Geralt was almost certain even Yen knew was actually his and not Emhyr’s. Not that Geralt had been able to wear it in the past couple of months. Emhyr was also holding the toy raven Yen had insisted on.

“Hey you.” Geralt interrupted them to kiss Emhyr. It got him only a bemused eye roll from Yen. “Ciri showed me the amazing job you did with the nursery. It’s come out even better.”

“Glad you think so.” Emhyr took Geralt’s hand. He seemed to remember the raven then, and held it up to Geralt’s eye height. “Yennefer got this for the baby. It’s very cute.”

“I know.” Geralt grinned. “Wait until you see the onesies.”

“And the bill,” Yen chimed in.

Emhyr huffed. “I’m prepared for that. I hope.”

“Damn, I knew we should have had lunch in an expensive restaurant,” Yen laughed.

Emhyr shrugged. “Maybe. And it’s of course no prized restaurant, but could I at least invite you for dinner today?”

Geralt raised his eyebrows. He was even more surprised when Yen accepted.

They finished unloading the car after that. Ciri had already prepared some scissors and the clothes basket in the living room. The intention was clear. Show off the onesies and other textiles and then sort them for washing at the same time. It turned out to be surprisingly fun. Yen and Ciri were very much into it and, while Geralt half-dozed against his side, Emhyr was engaging with them as best as he knew how. When she eventually saw it, Yen was also praising the nursery. They’d agreed to order take out, seeing as nobody felt up to cooking after the day they’d had.

The meal was surprisingly peaceful, too. If Geralt hadn’t known better, he’d even believed Emhyr and Yen were trying to be friends. It might have been helped by the bottle of wine Emhyr’d opened. Or they were actually trying.

After dinner, Yen took Ciri out of the room, shooting Geralt a meaningful look as she went. Emhyr seemed to have picked it up, too, because he waited until they were alone before he asked, “What was that about?”

“I… uhm…” Geralt took a deep breath. Rip the bandaid off quick, he told himself. “Yen thinks you… well. When you asked me if I’d want to get married yesterday… uh. Well. I didn’t mean I don’t want want to. Because I do. If it can wait. I just… I didn’t realize you were asking for real and in all seriousness. And I’m sorry for being an idiot about it.”

“Ah.” And then, Emhyr didn’t say anything else for a long moment. “I didn’t want to ask you directly because it is indeed the wrong time,” he finally said. “In any case, my desire stemmed mostly from the irrational wish to give you and the baby legitimacy and security. Both of which can be accomplished by other means. I’m well aware of that and yet…”

“Yeah, it’s still not the same,” Geralt sighed. “I know we haven’t talked about this for months, but…” He held out his hand and waited until Emhyr had taken it. “I still think about what it would be like if you’d bonded me. And I think I’d like it. So, er, I don’t know how to even ask this but…”

“Marriage without a big wedding?”

Geralt nodded emphatically. “As low key as possible?”

Emhyr’s gaze became a little unfocused as he thought. “There might be more than one way. Wedding only postponed? Hush hush and mostly on paper?”

Geralt kept nodding.

“I’ll think of something,” Emhyr promised. “If you really want that.”

“I do. I really, really do.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C/N: birth, blood, operation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Nikocita linda aka Nikorys for lending her medical expertise.

Geralt stared at the pen Emhyr offered him maybe a second too long. “Second thoughts?” Emhyr asked. “It’s not too late.”

With some effort, Geralt pulled his focus from the pen to the paper in front of him. The ink of Emhyr’s signature was still moist. It was flowing, practiced, beautiful. Much easier to look at than the rest of the document. Even though Geralt had requested they’d do this. Even though they were sitting in Emhyr’s office in October, less than a month before the cesarian, in the early afternoon on a school day. They were keeping this even from Ciri. Geralt had told Yen, because he knew he’d never be forgiven otherwise and they needed the witness, but she had been sworn to utmost secrecy, too.

Geralt put the pen on the paper above the line for his signature. “No, no, I want this. It was my idea. I’ll see it through.” He let the pen glide through the letters of his signature, under the watchful eyes of Yen, Emhyr’s assistant and a notary. “There.” He capped the pen, before remembering that their witnesses still had to sign. With a sheepish smile, he handed the pen over to Yen as she bent down to sign the marriage contract.

A civil marriage. Legally binding, but without any fanfare. They’d do that in a year or two. Three tops. Whenever they found the time, anyway. It was somewhere in the prenup, Geralt was sure. Whatever happened, Ciri and the baby would be alright. The hospital wouldn’t be able to make a fuss about Emhyr’s presence, not with the paperwork to back him up. It covered a lot of the things Geralt had been worried about.

But also, they were married now.

Married.

Four signatures and a stamp under a contract and they were married before the law. It felt relieving. Freeing. Geralt took Emhyr’s hand and smiled at him. “Sorry, I… I was just thinking for a second that we should have done this properly, after all.” He shook his head. “It’s okay. This is the sensible choice. And we’ll just do the party later. Much later.” He laughed. He’d confessed to Emhyr just recently, that whenever he thought of the birth or any time immediately after, he was coming up with the white noise of panic. A long term goal to look forward to, they’d both agreed, would only do him good.

“We’ll make time,” Emhyr promised, before he leaned over to kiss Geralt. “Soon.”

  
  
  
  


Geralt was napping in his chair in the nursery. He’d been doing that a lot. That and sorting and unpacking clothes, soft toys, diapers and the thousands of other things a newborn would need. He’d also packed and repacked their hospital go bag at least a hundred times. It calmed him and it wasn’t like he could focus on anything else much anyway. The closer he got to what he jokingly called C day, the more he wanted it to be over with.

And yet, if Emhyr hadn’t come to wake him up, he would have slept through the appointment at the hospital. He wasn’t even quite there for the drive.

“Are you doing alright?” Emhyr asked suddenly. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He, too, was nervous. “If you’re not feeling well…”

“If I’m not feeling well, we’re headed in the right direction.” Geralt forced himself to smile. “I’m good. Nervous. But good. Really.” He waved a hand. “It’s just like my current options are either letting the hormones take over or sleep. And I don’t want to snap or yell at my husband all day long. So I nap.”

“In that case, thank you for your consideration,” Emhyr replied stiffly.

“Don’t worry so much.” Geralt yawned. “They do this procedure a lot. It’ll be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

Emhyr took a deep breath. “You will be fine,” he repeated, probably to calm himself down.

“You made it through this once before,” Geralt pushed on. Getting Emhyr to calm down was easier than to address his own nerves. He’d made the mistake of looking up educational videos on C sections online. Putting those thoughts aside had taken some effort. It was a big cut. “This time, it’s at least on a schedule.”

“And you think that makes it better?”

Geralt grinned. He knew he had Emhyr there. “Of course. A schedule means you can plan. You took today and the rest of the week off. It means you know where Ciri should be at all times. You didn’t have to drop everything because contractions started and you don’t have to try an’ organize ad hoc.”

“Point for you,” Emhyr agreed. Not that they were keeping score. Which, for the record, they had discussed briefly once and then laughed because they realized they were both being ridiculous. “We’re almost there.”

Emhyr parked the car in the hospital’s own parking block. At least it meant that for the horrendous price they’d have to pay for parking, the walk to the hospital’s entrance lobby was entirely roofed, a welcome protection against the increasingly bad November weather. As by now usual, Emhyr took over the chat with the receptionist. They’d been to the LD unit once before, to meet the doctor and discuss any relevant details with him. That at least made it easier to find.

Geralt was glad that he could finally sit back down again while Emhyr talked to yet another nurse at yet another reception desk, much longer this time. Halfway through the conversation, another nurse walked up, exchanged a few words before she came over to Geralt, having relieved Emhyr of the bag with Geralt’s change of clothes.

“Hello there, hon,” she greeted Geralt. Her voice was gentle. “Why don’t we take a walk down to your room so you can get changed and wait for the doctor?” She offered Geralt her arm to lean on. “Your husband will be done in a minute and rejoin us as soon as he can. Everything alright so far?”

“All good. No contractions yet. Baby’s awake and moving like normal.” Geralt had answered this very question too many times to count in the past weeks. “My bloodwork from last week should be on file, too.”

The nurse smiled. “We’ll still need to check you up today, too.”   
“I know,” Geralt sighed. He sat down on the hospital bed when the nurse motioned for him to. “It’s just been a lot.”

“You’ve almost made it,” the nurse said cheerfully. “If you’d change into the gown, please, while I’ll fetch the doctor for you.”

Geralt changed while she was gone. He let the doctor check him up when she returned with him. He laid down when he was told to, and took Emhyr’s hand when he finally joined them. He was getting nervous. It wasn’t a long operation, he knew, but the cut… He tried to put the thoughts out of his mind. Focus on the after, he told himself. They went into the operation room. The nurse put up a sheet so Geralt couldn’t see below his chest. There was the slight pinch of a needle.

The wait for the local anesthesia to work was bad. Geralt kept clutching at Emhyr’s hand for support. At least he was there, too. He wasn’t sure how he’d have been able to go through it alone. The nurses stood ready by the doctor. Geralt didn’t feel the cuts. Not knowing what was going on was probably the worst.

And then the baby, their baby, started crying. For a second, Geralt looked at Emhyr feeling nothing but relief and love. Then, though, the nurse stepped around the privacy screen holding his baby and he couldn’t draw his eyes away from her. Bloody, wrapped in a towel and screaming and yet perfect. Completely and utterly perfect. When the nurse held her up for Geralt to say hello to the newborn, he reached out to touch her.

“Hey there,” he said and she stopped crying for a moment, looking at him with big eyes. “Do you recognize me?”

He wanted to hold her and not let her go until she could walk away on her own. It took a lot of strength not to beg the nurse to not take her away to be cleaned up. He knew that the surgeon was working on him. He couldn’t hold his beautiful, goo covered daughter just now. But he could let go of Emhyr so he could take her until Geralt was ready.

It felt like an eternity before they wheeled him over into the recovery room. But then he got to hold his daughter in his arms and his entire world zeroed in on the little baby in his arms, now calm and clean, swaddled and… Geralt laughed at the silly though.

“What?” Emhyr asked. He’d pulled up a chair and was also unable to look away from their daughter, too. He looked softer around the edges, somehow, in a way Geralt lacked the words to express.

“They banded her,” Geralt giggled. He felt not quite like himself yet. “Like a little bird.”

“It’s an ID tag, Geralt.” Emhyr brushed his hair back.

“I know.” Geralt kissed her little head. “Is school out yet? I want Ciri here, too.”

“Almost,” Emhyr assured him. “Yen’s already waiting for her. She’ll be here soon.”

Geralt wanted to reach out and cling to Emhyr all of a sudden. His mind was a mess. Too much to process and too many things getting into the way for it. What did get through was that he was finally holding his baby in his arms and he loved her dearly already.

The throught terrified him a little.

“The nurse asked about her name,” Emhyr said. “I told her we had a shortlist but her big sister would pick the one.”

“Shortlist,” Geralt echoed. “We had five boys' names. That’s a shortlist. Not… well.”

“Still, we agreed Ciri would pick it,” Emhyr reminded him. “A list’s a list.”

“Yeah, fine. We promised Ciri.” The baby yawned and suddenly the promise and the list of names weren’t even on Geralt’s mind anymore. He turned to his little daughter and brushed a finger over her cheek. She turned and then sleepily mouthed at his shirt. Remembering parenting class, Geralt tugged his shirt out of the way. It took a bit of fumbling and adjusting on both their parts, but after the awkward moments, she was suckling. He knew he had no milk yet, couldn’t have, but it would be only a matter of time. Besides, having her soft baby skin touch his was soothing.

“Do you think her hair’ll stay black?” Geralt asked idly. “I mean, yours is. So chances are it will, right?”

Emhyr made a little non-commital sound. “She’s got your nose.”

“Too bad, I like yours.” Geralt wasn’t looking up. How could he? He’d waited so long to see his little baby for the first time and now she was seeking him out already, sleepy and confused as she was. He stroked her tiny little head with his thumb.

Eventually, she turned her head away and went back to sleep. Geralt kept stroking her head. He knew eventually he’d have to let go, but for the moment he was allowed to just hold her undisturbed. 

At least the eventual disturbance was a pleasant one. There was a knock, before Ciri and Yen came into the room. The noise had startled the baby and she was crying as loud as her little lungs let her. Geralt had immediately started to rock her, whispering to her like he’d learned, telling her that everything was alright. Emhyr looked a little startled at the noise, too, like he’d been asleep as well.

Ciri looked a little contrite when she sat down on Geralt’s bed. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t…”

“I promise you we’ll all make her scream eventually,” Geralt sighed. He kissed the baby’s head, before stretching to kiss Ciri’s cheek. “Hey there, how was school?”

Ciri shot him a look that asked loudly why he thought anything about school even mattered right now. “You said her,” she ignored the question. “So, I have a sister now?” She carefully ran a finger over the baby’s cheek and then offered the finger for her sister to grasp. “So strong.”

Geralt smiled. “Yes, you have a sister now. Be nice to her.” He looked over to Emhyr. “Want a look at the list of names we made?”   
Ciri’s eyes widened and he could tell she was suppressing a yelp of excitement. She nodded. “Please.”

Emhyr pulled two pieces of paper out of his pocket. He took a brief look, before he handed one over to Ciri. She read it, frowned, and then looked at Geralt. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirmed. “So? What’s her name?”

“But you know already,” Ciri laughed. “There’s only one name on this.”   
“Yeah, but what do you think?” Geralt nudged her with his elbow. “Do you… hate it?”

“No.” Ciri shook her head. She tried to free her finger, but immediately gave up when the baby wouldn’t let go. “It’s the perfect name. Yvette’s the perfect name for her.”

“That’s what we thought, too.” Geralt gently freed Ciri’s finger. Yvette had settled again, looking in curiosity at her big sister. “And I guess she knows your voice already with the way she looks at you.”

“You think so?” Ciri beamed. “Hi, Yvette, I’m your big sister, Ciri. I promise I’ll always take good care of you.”

Yvette yawned at her, before turning her face against Geralt’s chest.

“She’ll be taking a lot of naps at first,” Geralt explained softly. “And only wake up to cry or eat or both. Do you want to risk her crying so you can hold her?”

Ciri shook her head, so Geralt looked expectantly at Yen, who also shook her head.

“Dad? Can we do something?” Ciri started. She couldn’t meet Geralt’s eyes, so he knew what she’d ask would be elaborate or at the very least a bit much. “I talked to Yen on the way over and… we want to make Yvette a book like mom did for me. If it’s okay. And, dad, can Yen take a photo of all four of us? For the book.”

Geralt wiped the corner of his eye at his shoulder, because that was easier than using his hand. “Sure,” he said around the lump in his throat. “I’d like that.”

It took a bit of awkward shuffling, waiting, and Ciri with one knee on the bed, but they managed a picture where Yvette wasn’t hiding her face. Geralt decided he didn’t want to let Emhyr go after and leaned against him, leaving him no choice but to stay. It helped that Emhyr immediately put his arm back around Geralt’s shoulders like he had for the picture. Yen showed them the photograph she and Ciri had decided was the one.

“Thank you,” Geralt managed to croak out. “Any chance you’ll print it twice so we can frame one?”

Yen smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. You gotta stay here for two days, right?”

Geralt nodded. “That’s the plan, if nothing unforeseen happens. They gotta make sure we’re both good, right?” The last part was directed at Yvette who blinked at him, huffed and went back to her nap.

“She’s adorable. Puffy, but adorable.” Yen shot Emhyr a brief look, before she bent down to kiss Geralt’s forehead. “Well done.” She patted his head. “Let me know what I can do to help. I mean it. Anything. I got myself and my entire murder available.”

“Thanks, Yen, but I don’t think I have much use for half a dozen extremely smart birds yet.” He looked at Ciri. “Unless there’s a boy I don’t know about.” She stuck out her tongue at him.

“I’ll let everyone know you’re alright, then. Ciri, you’ll be going home with your father?” At her nod, Yen ruffled Ciri’s hair as she said goodbye, shook Emhyr’s hand stiffly which made them both smile, and then kissed Geralt’s head again before she left.

“I don’t get your relationship to her, at all,” Geralt sighed when Yen’d closed the door after herself.

“Mutual respect,” Emhyr hummed. Geralt filed that response under part of the truth, but it wasn’t even close to the whole truth. “She’s a good person.”

A while later, when he started to feel drowsy himself, Geralt carefully handed Yvette over to Ciri, explaining to her how to hold a baby. He’d taken some paracetamol when the nurse came in, and while they helped with the pain, they also let him feel how tired he was. He fought his drooping eyelids for a while, because he wanted to watch Ciri rock her little sister. He was sure Emhyr’d taken a picture when she wasn’t looking, but seeing it him made him just so happy. They’d done the right thing. He’d done right by Ciri. It was all good. 

The sudden tears in his eyes made him blink in an effort to make them go away. Emhyr noticed, he had to, because why else would he kiss the corner of Geralt’s eye. “Are you alright?”

Geralt swallowed. He meant to answer out loud but couldn’t, so he nodded.

“They’re wonderful together,” Emhyr assured him. He intertwined his fingers with Geralt’s. “I’m glad you chose this. Glad you allowed me to be part of this.”

“Glad you’re still willing to have me,” Geralt whispered. He held onto Emhyr’s hand. “Glad to have our little family.”

  
  


It took the expect _ e _ d two days until Geralt was allowed to leave the hospital. The doctor was satisfied with the state of his stitches and with Yvette’s overall health. But it was an alien feeling, being just allowed to take a baby home with him, without a fuss or fight or any challenge to his claim as a parent. Entirely different from what it’d been like with Ciri, although he wasn’t sure if he had even expected any similarities.

The first week back home was strange. They all had to settle into new routines, all dictated by Yvette’s needs. Geralt tried to do as much as he could himself, even though he was still hurting all over. Especially the stitched up incision and his lower body at first, but soon he had to discover that nursing came with its own discomforts. Not the nursing itself, but the changes of his body.

He liked the time alone with the baby, though, especially in the early morning, when he could watch the sun rise outside the nursery window. During the day, he would carry her around in a sling, cradled against his chest while she slept. Like that, he cleaned, looked after his plants, and went for short walks around the neighborhood whenever he could find the energy to do something. Sleep was getting more and more scarce at night. More and more, Yvette would wake him with her wails because she was hungry. Emhyr would get up, too, but Geralt felt bad about it. After all, Emhyr was working during the day and he was on maternity leave.

Ciri was getting grouchy in the mornings. She didn’t get woken up as often, with an entire floor between her and the nursery, but she didn’t get uninterrupted sleep either. During the evenings, however, she did her best to be there to help, between school and homework. She didn’t even go out as much on the weekends, preferring to spend her time at home or on hour long walks with Yvette in her stroller instead. Before long, she was watching her parents changing Yvette’s diapers. 

Geralt caved eventually to the unspoken request. “Do you want to change her?” Yvette was lying on the floor of her nursery, looking up at them both with tears in her eyes. She had stopped crying when he’d put her down, like she always would. Once she got her way, she seemed to turn out to be a quiet baby.

“Yes!” Ciri was already trying to push Geralt aside as she said that. “So, first we have to get that onesie out of the way, right?” She started to unbutton the onesie, tickling her sister to keep her from fussing. They’d both seen Emhyr do that before. Next came the diaper itself. To Geralt’s surprise, she knew exactly how to get it off and slide it away. “What now?”

“Now, you clean her,” Geralt explained, handing her a wet wipe. “Make sure she’s all clean before you dry her.”

Ciri’s expression was full of eager concentration as she went about her task. One hand never left Yvette, especially when she reached for the fresh diaper and slid it under her. “Baby powder?”

“Here.” Geralt handed it over. He hadn’t even had to explain to her which side went where. And Yvette was calm and happy so there was nothing to complain about. “You’re doing better than I did first try. Or second. Or the first time on a real baby.”

Ciri was smiling while she did Yvette’s onesie back up. “I had weeks of watching you guys first. I’m pretty sure father could change a diaper in his sleep. I still gotta think about the steps, though.”

“Your father probably did change diapers in his sleep before,” Geralt mused while he wrapped Yvette back into her sling. “I dunno how he can get as much sleep as he does. But maybe it’s true and it gets easier with a second child.”

“You’re not thinking about another, are you?”

“Hell no,” Geralt laughed. “No. Been there, done that, now I’m good. Got you two and I’m happy with that.”

Ciri pecked his cheek. “Thanks for saying that.” She brushed over her sister’s little head. “And just tell me when you want me to watch her for a while. I can do that. School first, Yvette second, friends third. Or something like that. Still working it out.” Ciri stretched. “But I want to be there for her. Like a big sister. Even when I go to college in a few years.”

“So Cerys and you…?”

Ciri shrugged. “Working on it. It’s weird, you know, dad? Dating as a teen. When you don’t know what your secondary gender will be until the end of your puberty. What if… what if we turn both out the same?”

“Then you work it out.” Geralt put an arm around her shoulder. “No sense in worrying over it. Your mom and I stayed friends.”

“Did you and mom…?”

“Oh, no. Never. But I thought about it for a while.” Geralt sighed. “You know, sometimes I think, well, it’s all just… so random. What does it matter when you really love someone?” He laughed. “But don’t listen to me. What do I know? I tried to make it work with female alphas all my life and it never worked out.”

“And now you got father.” Ciri grinned. “Maybe the old movies are just a bunch of lies?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Geralt agreed. “The world’s changing. Not just for me but on a whole. So… I want you to be happy, in whatever way you choose.”

“Sappy,” Ciri teased. “But, thanks, dad. I want you to be happy, too.”

Geralt looked down at Yvette and then at Ciri. “I am.” He smiled. “I’m very happy with you and your father.”

“You should let me babysit occasionally so you can spend time alone together,” Ciri suggested. “I can bottle feed just as well as father and I can change diapers. You should date.”

“Date, eh?” Geralt sighed. “Yeah, it might be time for that.” He looked out the window for a moment. “Is there anything you want for the upcoming holidays? Food, trips, activities, anything?”

Ciri paused for a moment. “I’ll think about it, dad. Thanks.” She took his hand. “I love you, dad. Don’t worry so much.”

  
  


Despite her promise, the only request Ciri had for the holidays was to spend New Years Eve with her friends. The others were spent quietly among their family, with brief visits from Geralt’s friends. Yen brought entire matching outfits for Ciri and Yvette when she came over after the first snow. Ciri changed herself and Yvette into it for a brief walk with Yen around the neighborhood. They came back in time for dinner, cheeks red with cold and all hungry. After dinner, all four of them started picking out fotos Yen’d brought too for Yvette’s baby album. To Geralt’s surprise, quite a few had to have been taken by Emhyr. When he asked about it, all he got in response were mysterious smiles.

“We should do this every month so I can dote on my godchildren,” Yen sighed, leaning back with a glass of red wine Emhyr’d offered her. “It’s not like you girls have any grandparents to do that. So it’s only fair if your cool aunt does it.”

“You’re always welcome here.” Emhyr nodded at her. “Whenever you want.” He picked up one of the photos strewn around the coffee table. “I’m taking this to the office with me. It’s high time I start keeping personal photos on my desk. I’ve been told I’m setting a bad example.”

“Oooh, can I suggest one more desk pic?” Ciri picked out one that had her with Yvette in her arms on it and held it up. “Like this one?”

Emhyr nodded as he accepted the offered picture. “Thank you.”

“You know,” Ciri smiled. “You could just use a digital frame.”

“I know.” Emhyr waved the pictures. “But I like these. One just like this got me through the last year of law school 15 years ago. It’s good to have a reminder why I’m doing it. And why I should stop at the end of the day and go home.”

“You’re doing well with that, though,” Ciri reassured him. She was cuddling against his side. “I notice. You never come home later than promised. You haven’t all year.”

“I have a secret weapon for that,” Emhyr confessed. He unlocked his phone and tapped around on it for a moment before he handed it over to Ciri. “A Monday to Friday alarm reminding me to go home. I’m working on it, but I still need it some days. That’s… it’s alright with you, isn’t it? I’m trying and sometimes I still fail.”

“Of course. You make time for me, for us. That’s what matters.” Ciri hid her face against her father’s shoulder. “That’s… these past six months… I’ve never felt this happy before. And safe, too. And when I groan about you and dad… it’s not like I want you to stop. I want you both there. As you are right now.”

Emhyr pulled her into a hug and held her, for a long time, until she’d calmed down again. Even though he tried to hide it, Geralt could see the tears shining in Emhyr’s eyes, too.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

“Yes, dad.” Ciri was seconds away from simply pushing him out the door, Geralt could tell. “I got the schedule, milk is in the fridge, father gave us pizza money, and I know what to do in emergencies. Ivette’s three months old, there’s not much she can do. Maybe she’ll throw up, but that’s about it and I know where the washing machine is and how to use it. I got your number. And father’s number. And Yen’s number. I’ll call if we need any help. Now go already!”

“She could throw up and then laugh at you,” Geralt argued for the sake of it. He would go. He had dressed up into a nice shirt and actual slacks at Emhyr’s insistence. They had a dinner reservation. Emhyr had gone ahead and was waiting for him by the door, looking amused. “Or she could roll over.”

“Oh no,” Ciri gasped. “She’ll roll over once and then lie on her stomach. Just what am I to do? Right, play with her and talk to her. Dad, I promise you I got this.”

“And if she cries?” They’d reached the door. This was his last chance to change his mind.

“If she cries, I’ll pick her up, hug her and then see if she needs food or a fresh diaper.” Ciri, door in hand, rolled her eyes. “Go, enjoy your date.” And just like that, she’d closed the door in his face.

Geralt slumped. He didn’t feel ready to be out of the house without his baby. He had been, up until ten minutes ago. It wasn’t even the first time he’d gone out without her. Sometimes, when either Emhyr or Ciri was at home, he’d go grocery shopping. But that only took an hour at most and it needed to be done. This, going out for dinner, with Emhyr, was for personal pleasure alone.

“It’ll be fine,” Emhyr reassured him. He’d already backed his car out of the garage and was waiting patiently for Geralt to get in. “It’s not the first time Ciri looks after her sister. You’re allowed to have an evening off.”

Geralt sighed. “Am I really?”

“Well, even if you’re not, it’s too late now.” Emhyr wasn’t looking as he was too busy driving out onto the road. “Our dinner reservation is in thirty minutes and we’ve already left. All you can do now is sit back, relax and enjoy the evening.”

“Great,” Geralt grumbled, but he was relaxing more and more the farther they got from home. Still, he set his phone to ring just to feel better. “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to go out with you.”

“I know. It’s hard for you to leave her. She’s been so physically close to you for a year now. Don’t punish yourself for missing her.”

“A year…” Geralt looked at the date on his phone. Emhyr was right, it was about a year since his heat. Not that he remembered an exact date. He could probably look it up in his message history with Emhyr. At least if… “Would that be kinda like our anniversary?”

Emhyr raised an eyebrow. “Anniversary of what, exactly?”

“First civil non-Ciri related conversation?” Geralt suggested. “Or of getting to actually know each other?”

“Ah, less crude than what I’d been thinking of.” Geralt wasn’t entirely sure whether Emhyr sounded relieved or smug. “Well, yes, I guess it is, isn’t it? A year exactly yesterday.”

“...did you just know that?” Geralt squinted at Emhyr. “Or did you look it up when the idea of us going out for an evening came up?”

Emhyr laughed. “The latter. But I am glad you still think the former possible.”

“I never know with you!” Geralt defended himself. “So, a year ago today you skipped work to keep me company?”

“Yes, as far as I can tell, I did.” Even though he wasn’t looking at Geralt, he smiled softly. “And I haven’t regretted it for a moment since.”

Geralt swallowed. “Yeah. Me neither.” It wasn’t quite the truth. He’d been cursing Emhyr a lot lately, mostly because his body had hurt all over after the birth and Yvette was costing them both a lot of sleep. But overall, he now had the life he’d dreamed about when he’d been still young enough to do so. “Thanks for dragging me out today. I need to feel more like my own person again, not just Ciri and Yvette’s… dad? Is it even okay to still want to be called that? After I gave birth?”

“I don’t mind. And I’m sure Ciri won’t stop calling you dad anyway. Although…” Emhyr pulled a face. “Dad, or rather dada, is much easier to say than father.”

“Thinking that far ahead already, huh?” Geralt was still fascinated every time Yvette was laughing at him. Or when she rolled over on her own. Or any time she was flailing her tiny little hands at her toys, especially at any dangling above her. He couldn’t imagine watching her crawl around the house yet. Or walking. Talking. All the things he hadn’t seen day to day with Ciri.

“Time flies when you don’t sleep much,” Emhyr joked. “I already debate working nights when she starts teething. I can work just as well with her in her sling. Better, maybe, because I’m sitting up straighter. We have the choice to do so.”

“So you’d sleep during the day, alone, and I sleep during the night, also alone?” Geralt shook his head. “Not gonna happen. I got much too used to having you around.”

“Just think about it when we get there, alright?” Emhyr shrugged. “It’s an option. Once you’re getting used to more than two hours of sleep at a time again, you might want to reconsider.”

Geralt sighed. “So, our nights aren’t getting longer yet?”

“Not yet. It’ll be a while still. I remember walking around our apartment with Ciri nights on end while I was studying. I might have put her to sleep by reading her one law textbook or another more than once. I’m sure reading her depositions would work just as well on Yvette.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember!” Geralt’s eyes widened. “The first time I came to visit Ciri and Vetta after the hospital! Vetta told me you were asleep and I was a little… let’s say, confused, by it.”

“You mean you were thinking I was very strange and not supporting Vetta as much as I should,” Emhyr correctly guessed. “You couldn’t know.”

“Still.” Geralt looked out of the window. They were close to the restaurant, as far as he could tell. He couldn’t look at Emhyr thinking about that time still. He’d been unfair to him a lot. He didn’t want to be anymore. “I could have helped more then. But I was young and stupid and you both looked like you had everything handled, baby, carreer, and relationship.” He shrugged. “Vetta seemed like she was ten years more grown up than me and I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Could have, should have, would have.” Emhyr waved a hand. “It’s done. You can only change the future.”

Geralt snorted. “Okay, that sounds like one of those ‘good thoughts’ calendar mottos. You don’t actually believe that?”

“No, of course not,” Emhyr huffed. “I’m a lawyer. If I didn’t think the present and future could shape the past, I’d look for another job. Believe me, I make people question their version of the past often enough.”

“Geeze. Alright. I’ll stop beating myself up over it.”

“Good.” Emhyr brought the car to a stop in the restaurant’s parking lot. He leaned across the center console for a kiss. “Look ahead with me. Please?”

They didn’t continue their conversation until they were seated at their table. The restaurant was better than Geralt was used to, although it didn’t require a suit and tie from its guests. The menu was minimalistic, with three options per course, but fancy, with a lot of French strewn in. While Geralt was still trying to figure out what to order, Emhyr chatted to their waiter about non-alcoholic drink options. Eventually, they were done ordering and the waiter left them alone again. 

“So, looking ahead, huh?” Geralt had to force the words out to his shock. Much of the future in his imagination was still all white noise. It terrified him a little. “Like Ciri’s sixteenth birthday in less than three months?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of wedding dates and plans.” Emhyr was smiling. ”Ciri will tell us what she wants for her birthday. I’m counting on it.”

Geralt swallowed. “You still want to…” He took a deep breath. “You still want a proper wedding?”

“I also want to buy you a ring, Geralt,” Emhyr confessed, grasping Geralt’s hand and kissing the knuckles. “A wedding band so everyone can see you belong to me and nobody can deny it.”

Geralt bit his lip and turned away from the intensity of Emhyr’s eyes. He wanted this so bad. But he also kept telling himself that he already had more than he deserved.

“Not good?” Emhyr let go of Geralt’s hand and sat back again. “Too soon?”

“No.” Geralt slowly shook his head. “No. Not too soon. And good, actually. Very good. June or early October. If we’re looking for dates. Doing the party on our real wedding date would be a bit cold, even though it would be nice.”

“What about May? Exactly half a year from the date on paper,” Emhyr suggested. “It won’t be as warm as June, but comfortable enough to have it outside.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt hummed. “May sounds good, too. But it is a bit close to Ciri’s birthday. Two parties within a fortnight.”

“June or October it is, then. Or just whenever we can find a venue?”

“Or we could just do it in the backyard,” Geralt suggested. “It’s not like I want to invite a lot of people. It’ll be twenty guests, tops, I think.”

Emhyr closed his eyes and thought about it. “I get to fourteen, at best.”

“See? Easy. No need for a wedding venue.” Finally, finally the panic was subsiding. They could talk about this easily. Geralt didn’t even check his phone every two minutes, despite it being set to ring. He could just enjoy spending an evening with great food and a man whose presence he wouldn’t give up for anything in the world outside their family.

He did look when his phone dinged once halfway through the main course. It was a selfie from Ciri with Yvette sleeping on her chest and the text «Both fed. Now watching chick flicks bc we miss u <3 Don’t come home too late. <3 u Dad.» He showed the picture to Emhyr, before putting his phone on silent and shoving it into his pocket. Plans to look forward to. A family that loved him and that he loved too. No financial worries ever again. All in all, if Geralt had been asked what a perfect life would be like on the grand scale of things, he’d said everything he had now. 


	9. The Wedding

“I don wanna dress. Stupid dress.”

“Sweetie,” Geralt did his best to muster all of his patience. “Yesterday, you said you couldn’t wait to wear it.”

“No! Nonononono, I don wanna.” The way Yvette shook her head made her pig tails fly. At two and a half, she’d become quite a handful. Usually, Geralt would take his time with her when she was like this, to curb off tantrums before they started. But today, he just didn’t have the time. He wasn’t dressed himself either and soon the first guest would arrive and…

And they should have put off the wedding even longer. It hadn’t been the right time after Ciri’s sixteenth birthday when they all were barely getting any sleep and Geralt was trying to get ready to return to his job at the zoo. October and November of that year had been busy too. It hadn’t been the right time at any point during last year, either. Geralt had even started to argue that they didn’t need to have a wedding party considering they were already married. Which was why Emhyr’d presented him with a ridiculously costly engagement ring in front of their girls and he hadn’t been able to say no in face of Ciri’s obvious excitement.

He was still wearing that ring. That, and his underwear was all he was wearing at the moment, alone with Yvette in the master bedroom. The smart anthrazite three piece suit Ciri had helped him buy was hanging on the wardrobe waiting for him, complete with a pristine shirt and matching tie. 

The dress Yvette was taking so much offence to was splayed out on the bed, waiting for her. Aside from its deep red color that would bring out her dark hair and pale skin, it looked like it had been made for a princess.

“Don’t you wanna be a princess today when you walk daddy over to your father?” Geralt tried. Arguing was not the brightest idea but Emhyr had started to rub off on him. “Everyone will be looking at us.”

“Wanna frog!” Yvette declared. She immediately started to play her favorite game, which was to imitate a frog. She’d been very fascinated this spring when they’d come across a number of them during one of their weekend trips to the cabin. 

Because of course after their second vacation at that lake, Emhyr had had to buy the cabin. Geralt had been mad at him about that for a while. It just had been so much money. Even though he knew that it wasn’t a big deal for Emhyr. It was a big one for him, emotionally. Because he still could feel a lump forming in his throat any time he had to spend more than a hundred bucks on anything. Because Emhyr didn’t understand this instinct and probably never would. Because he’d been stressed about money for most of his life. There had been a fight. Geralt had spent the night on the couch, sulking. Or he had intended to and then, around three a.m., realized that he neither could nor wanted to sleep without Emhyr by his side. The compromise had been that they’d spent weekends at the cabin, at least once a month from spring to fall.

Money had become the biggest issue to compromise around. Not that it was ever anything serious or financially threatening. But it was unavoidable, with their diametrically opposed upbringing and experiences in that regard. When Ciri had wanted a car for her sixteenth birthday, bringing arguments and possible chores with her, Geralt had still wanted to flat out refuse. Emhyr had wanted to just buy her one. In the end, the compromise had been twofold: Geralt had gotten a minivan, giving his old truck to Ciri. And Ciri had in turn promised to drive under parental supervision for another six months. It had worked out, even though Geralt had felt like he’d been tricked into trading his sturdy truck in for a minivan with airbags everywhere. The only problem for him was that the damn car was so fucking comfortable he couldn’t even complain.

Geralt put on his slacks while he watched his daughter jump around the room on all fours. “If I kiss the frog, will the frog turn into a princess?” he asked her following a sudden idea. “Like in your fairy tale book?”

Yvette paused, looked at him with an expression of extreme concentration and then finally nodded. Geralt smiled as he picked her up and kissed her cheeks again and again until she was giggling helplessly.

“Daddy noooooo,” she shrieked, pushing his face away with both hands. “Dress! Dress!”

“Alright,” Geralt relented and put her down. He made a show of fluffing the dress up and unzipping the back of it. “Arms up!”

Yvette’s arms shot up. She could barely hold still long enough for Geralt to tug everything in place.

“Alright, Princess, turn around so I can do up the zipper.”

Yvette turned, already moving from one foot to the other. Luckily, the zipper went up without a hitch.

“All done!”

Yvette spun around, watching the skirt go up. She laughed. Inwardly, Geralt sighed. He was never getting dressed like this. Desperate, he texted Ciri for help.

“Socks?”

“No!” Yvette stomped her naked feet on the wooden floor. “Hate socks. Hate shoes!”

Geralt had just managed to catch her after she’d tried to flee the dreaded socks, when there was a knock. “Geralt?” Yen poked her head in. She shot him a knowing look. Then, her face immediately lit up as she started to coo: “Where’s my favorite niece?”

“Auntie Yen!” Yvette screamed. 

Geralt let go of her. She would run off with Yen now, no matter how he tried to prevent it. He shot her a thankful look. “Could you do her hair?”

Yen nodded as she picked Yvette up as demanded of her. “You know, I have just the thing for that.” She winked at Yvette as she pulled a small bag from her pocket. She relinquished it to the tiny grabby hands.

“What do you say?” Geralt asked automatically.

“Thaaaank you,” Yvette squealed. She was too busy looking at the contents of the bag. “Daddy look! Frogs!” She held up a green hairclip that looked very much like the face of a frog.

“C’mon now, let’s get your hair done up like a frog princess,” Yen laughed. “Wave your daddy!”

Yvette waved with her free hand as Yen carried her out.

Geralt collapsed onto the bed as soon as he was alone. Without Yvette, he had nothing to stop him from spiraling. He was exhausted already and it was barely past eleven. The wedding was just an excuse to have a party. They’d been married for two and a half years. He’d been planning his escape halfheartedly all day.

Which was silly. He loved Emhyr and he did want to make a big deal out of it for once. He wanted all their friends to see them exchange their vows. He wanted to take cute pictures with their girls while they still could. Sooner or later Ciri would move out, no matter what she said right now about attending the local college.

There had been a lot of fights between Ciri and Emhyr about that particular topic. Emhyr was mad that Ciri hadn’t even attempted to get into any of the Ivies. Ciri was mad that her father was so dead set on having her move out. And just when their tempers had finally cooled down a little, Emhyr had learned that Ciri had applied for the pre med program. He’d acted like that was some kind of personal affront. Secretly, Geralt was with Ciri on that. If she wanted to become a medical doctor, that was fine with him. If she’d wanted to become any other kind of doctor, he’d be a little worried. But Emhyr had apparently hoped she’d study law and join his firm. Ciri’s argument that medicine was about the middle ground between law and straight up biology hadn’t worked.

Geralt fiddled with his engagement ring. He loved them both, but sometimes they were also both too headstrong for their own good.

Not that he’d found a way to mediate yet.

With a sigh, he pushed himself up to his feet again. He could hear the first guests outside in the backyard already. He should probably finish dressing.

The suit fit better than anything else he owned. He’d had to stand still what felt like an eternity for the tailor to take his measurements for it. But it was worth it. For a moment, Geralt admired himself in the wardrobe mirror. The suit looked sharp on him, masking his chest, which had never gone back to the way it had been after a year of nursing, while bringing out his broad shoulders and narrow hips. It had been a hot while since he’d liked his reflection this much. Half the time he looked into mirrors on any other day, it made him feel like his body was broadcasting that he was an omega, a second rate man.

Talking with Emhyr about those body image issues had been mortifying, yet necessary. More than once, Geralt had stood in front of this exact mirror, trying to press his breasts flat against his chest and willing them to stay there. His beard helped, a little, despite how much the girls protested it. For the worst days, another male Omega from their toddler play group had recommended him a kind of sports bra. Geralt had been very sceptical about it at first. But he had grudgingly tried it. Turned out there was no reason for him to drag his feet. While it did look like a bra, it was designed less for support and more to distribute tissue more evenly, pressing his breasts flat against his chest. The only downsides he could find was getting into the damned fabric-made blessings and the way they creaked in protest when he breathed in too deeply.

He pulled the note he’d put in the inner pocket of his jacket out. It had a few bullet points on it, nothing much, just enough to make sure he wouldn’t forget any part of his vows. He wondered if he should have written down all of it instead. But there wasn’t time for that anymore. In about an hour, hour and a half tops, he would have to stumble his way through the bullet points in front of everyone he cared about.

Maybe if he was very quiet, he would be able to sneak out the front door unnoticed after all. 

Taking a deep breath, he folded the note up so he could tuck it back into his pocket. He was being ridiculous. The words would be there when he needed them. Emhyr already knew most of it. Ciri knew. Yvette knew as much as she could understand. Whatever he would say, it wouldn’t be close to everything. But it would be enough.

Following a sudden idea, he went to look for Ciri. He found her in the kitchen, arranging flowers in a vase. Or at least moving flowers that had been stuck into a vase around gently. She looked like her thoughts were elsewhere.

Because he could, Geralt snuck up behind her. “And here I thought I’d be the most nervous today,” he whispered, putting both hands on her shoulder. “You doing ok?”

“Dad!” Ciri exclaimed. She’d barely flinched. Her hands dropped away from the flowers. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Why indeed,” Geralt laughed. “I’m not going to run.”

Ciri put a hand over his, still on her shoulder. “You better not,” she joked along. “I’ve been waiting for this for years!”

Geralt’s grip tensed, until he consciously relaxed again. “I know, cub,” he whispered, and, softer even, “I’m sorry it took so long.”

She turned around at that and hugged him. “It’s okay, dad. We’re here now. And… I don’t wanna…” Her hands gripped the fabric of Geralt’s suit jacket tight. “Can’t you convince father that I can’t leave this so soon? It’s barely been three years and I wanted this so so long…” She pulled back, blinking frantically to make the tears go away. Geralt snatched a kitchen towel and handed it to her before she could ruin her makeup for good. “Sorry.”

“I’ll try,” Geralt promised. “You don’t have to move out until you’re ready. Besides, we need the help.” He winked.

“Right,” Ciri laughed. “Who else would pick Princess Frog up from the daycare every afternoon?” She grinned. “She already showed me her new hair clips. She’s very proud of them. Look what Yen got me.” Ciri tugged a locket free from her shirt neck. When she opened it, it had a tiny picture of Pavetta on one side and a recent picture of the four current members of their family on the other. Carefully, she closed it again and tucked it away.

“Beautiful,” Geralt breathed. “And very thoughtful. Yen’s acing the whole aunt thing.”

“Best aunt ever thing,” Ciri corrected cheerfully.

Geralt nodded. “Right. ...oh. Why I actually came looking for you.” He pulled his engagement ring off his finger and held it out to her. “Thought now that I won’t need this anymore, it’d be best if you had it. I’m pretty sure the tiny flower inlaid in it is made of real gemstones. Like, emeralds and sapphires. And I’m damn sure it isn’t made of silver nor steel either. So. It’d be a shame if it just rotted in the back of my night stand drawer for the next fifty or so years.”

“Dad!” Ciri was protesting but she’d still held out her hand to accept the ring. “What if I lose it?”

Geralt shrugged. “Then you lost it. But you won’t.”

Ciri swallowed. She closed her hand around the ring. “I won’t,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

He hugged her tight, mindful of both their clothes. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, dad.” She hugged him back, much harder than he had. “Now go, talk to your guests,” she laughed when she finally let go again. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

Geralt nodded. “Don’t hide too long or Yvette will come for you,” he warned. After Yen, Ciri was currently Yvette’s favorite person. If she had it her way, she’d follow her sister around all day. Some days lately it was even bad enough that she’d be upset on Ciri’s behalf, throwing tantrums when Emhyr tried to put her to bed.

Ciri swatted him off after that, so Geralt accepted his fate. The moment he stepped out of the kitchen and into the back yard, there wasn’t any escape anymore. Not that there had been a realistic one for him before. 

Yen was standing near the back fence, by Yvette’s garden toys, talking to Emhyr, his assistant and a work friend he’d invited. The two of them had gotten a lot closer over the past years and Geralt could have sworn they were secretly meeting for lunch every other week. It was the only sensible explanation for just how up to date Yen usually was on any new story about Yvette. Smart as she was, Yen very firmly stayed out of any fight between Ciri and Emhyr, though. No good came from picking a side there.

Yvette was playing with crayons and a coloring book on one of the chairs they’d set up, next to Lambert and Eskel. Lambert had actually brought Keira along, despite his ongoing complaints that he didn’t want to give her ideas. As far as Geralt knew, they’d been dating for ten years now, at the very least, and he and Eskel secretly thought that they’d never get married.

“Daddyyyy,” Yvette called out when she looked up and spotted him. Crayon still clutched in her fist, she waved at him. By the time he’d walked over and greeted his friends, she was vibrating with barely contained energy, eager to show him off what she’d been coloring. “Look! Uncle Eskie gave me!” She was beaming over what Geralt immediately identified as the new rain forest themed coloring book the zoo had ordered for the gift shops.

“Did you say thank you?”

Yvette nodded. It was about the amount of attention she had for the adults at the moment. She immediately went back to drawing over the outlined animals.

“Did she say thank you?” Geralt asked Eskel.

“She did,” Eskel assured him. “And told me she wants to see the blue froggies asap.”

Geralt groaned. “Of course she did.”

“Just wait another twenty years and she’ll be a grad student hunting for undiscovered species all around the equator,” Lambert smirked. “Completely unconcerned about her poor aging daddy at home.”

“Maybe she’ll at least send you some interesting orchids,” Eskel added as if that would make the bleak prediction any less horrifying to Geralt. “And if she needs shots before, her big sister can administer them.”

“Ciri told you?” Geralt groaned.

“She’s dead set on it,” Keira noted. There was a hint of admiration in her voice. “That kid would risk being cut from your wills to get what she wants. At least her intentions are pure and she’s smart enough and very studious. But the next decade will be rough.”

“I take your word for it.” As far as Geralt knew, Keira had transitioned from chief of medicine at a well known hospital to being a primary care provider at a small medical practice of her own.

“Send her to me when she needs a job during her vacations,” Keira offered. “It has to be more interesting to assist nurses than filing evidence and depositions in an open plan office all day. And everything is better than shoveling shit.”

“Hey! Working with animals is very rewarding,” Eskel protested. “As is teaching about them.”

“I’ll make sure she knows, thank you, Keira,” Geralt interjected to stop the usual squabbling.

“And you?” Lambert was grinning. “Are you nervous yet?”

Geralt thought about it. Weirdly enough, now that he was out in the open and getting some fresh air, he wasn’t anymore. “Not at all.”

“Not even a little?” Lambert teased.

“No. Because I like the commitment, Lambert,” Geralt shot back. The cheap jab at Lambert was well earned. “And I found exactly the right man for it, too.”

Lambert squinted at him. He hadn’t stopped poking at any of Geralt’s sore spots when he noticed them. So it was a relief when he threw up his hands and sighed: “You’re the one who has to be sure.”

“I’m very sure, as you can see. And tonight, I’ll be a very happy married man.” He couldn’t help looking over to Emhyr as he said it. Their eyes met for a moment and they shared a smile.

“Uck. Just, go to your groom,” Lambert tried to shoo him off. “We’ll be fine.”

Geralt kissed Yvette’s cheek, only to be shoved away by her, too. Beaten, he made a beeline for Emhyr. Almost as soon as he came to a stop next to him, they entangled their fingers. A weight Geralt hadn’t felt until it was gone lifted from his shoulders. Next to Emhyr, he felt as if he was exactly where he should be. And always, still, incredibly content.

“Geralt, you remember Carthia van Canten?” Emhyr introduced him.

“Yeah, my future divorce lawyer, I remember,” Geralt laughed, holding out his hand. “Just, don’t expect a call anytime soon.”

Carthia winked at Geralt as she took his offered hand and shook it. “I didn’t know! Somebody’s always been so quiet about his personal life. I really thought you were just another client back then.”

“I still fail to see why I should tell you any detail about my life outside work,” Emhyr huffed. “It didn’t interest you much before.”

“Uh, because nobody thought you had one,” Carthia teased. “And then it turns out you’re hiding a very handsome man from us. The aides are still trying to figure out how you got this lucky.”

Geralt smirked. “Did he not tell you about how we met in high school and have been a couple since?”

The bold faced lie made Carthia laugh. Even Yen and Emhyr’s assistant Mererid couldn’t help a smile. Emhyr merely huffed. “That is the foremost theory of the rumor mill,” Carthia admitted. “But I know better. Family law, remember?” At Emhyr’s flat look, she added, “It’s not snooping if you don’t hide it. The file on your custody dispute was surprisingly thin. That should have clued me in from the start.”

Geralt blinked. He’d always just assumed Emhyr had backed off for Ciri, not out of any consideration for him. When he turned to Emhyr, all he got in response was a brief squeeze of his hand.

“I knew I should’ve outsourced the case. You’re too nosy,” Emhyr shot back. “And if you need to know, I saw she was happy, in a good home with somebody who cares deeply for her. I did what I thought best for my daughter.” He looked over to the house. “I still do.”

“Not today,” Geralt whispered to Emhyr. “Not today, please? She’s worried enough about being pushed away as is. I don’t need you two fighting.”

Emhyr sighed. “Fine.”

“What are you whispering about?” Carthia interjected. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s nothing,” Geralt assured her, as Emhyr rolled his eyes. “Teenagers. I don’t know if you heard, but they like to rebel against their parents.”

Yen smirked. “I knew I should have gotten Ciri that leather jacket and pants combo. And aviator glasses. She would have loved it.”

Emhyr rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please no. She’d never wear anything else.”

From there, the conversation shifted to fashion, which engaged Yen and Carthia fully. Geralt exchanged a few pleasantries with Mererid, although they were both stiff about it. He still hadn’t figured the man out, at all. But Emhyr liked him, so Geralt did his best to be nice. When Triss arrived the three women formed a group for themselves. Geralt almost dared to hope he’d get a minute or two with Emhyr alone, but just then Yvette demanded parental attention.

The last guests to arrive were the AnCraites, minus Hjalmar who hadn’t been able to make it home from college for the occasion. Cerys had gone looking straight for Ciri. The two were still inseparable. It had taken a while, but Ciri had eventually admitted she was going out with Cerys. That hadn’t changed, even after they’d both had to learn that they were, infact, alphas. Ciri had clearly expected fatherly resistance to the idea of their relationship and had been completely thrown off when there hadn’t been any, at all. Crach hadn’t cared and as long as Ciri was happy, neither Geralt nor Emhyr had any intention to meddle in her love life.

Before long after all the guests had arrived, Yen stepped up in front of the arch they’d been set up for the wedding. Geralt took her requests for everyone to be seated as his cue to take Yvette back inside.

“Why’re we leaving?” Yvette asked once they were inside. 

Geralt lifted her up to sit on the counter. “Because it’s tradition,” he explained. “Well, it’d also be tradition for me to hide in the house so your father doesn’t see me before the ceremony but…” From the blank look on Yvette’s face, he could tell he’d lost her. “Grown ups like it this way,” he sighed.

Yvette nodded. Grown ups behaving strangely was something she could understand.

“So.” Geralt peered out to gauge how far Yen was into her opening speech. “Do you need to go potty? Or are we good?”

“Good,” Yvette crowed. When she remained adamant after the second time asking, Geralt chose to believe her.

“Good.” Geralt tugged her dress in shape. He was feeling nervous again.

“Daddy? Okay?” Yvette looked worriedly up at him. She raised her arms and made grabby hands to signal him that she wanted a hug. Geralt gladly complied, even though the kiss she pressed to his cheek was weirdly sticky.

“Thanks, cub.” He hugged her back. When he let go, he noticed Yen signaling him that she was about to be done. “Ready for everyone to look at you?”

Yvette cheered, so he lifted her down on the ground again and took her hand. “C’mon then.” With a final deep breath to steel himself, he pushed the backdoor open.

Walking down the makeshift aisle with everyone watching was strange. Geralt felt a little faint, even. Between Yvette clutching his hand and Emhyr waiting for him under the arch, though, he had something to ground him. It didn’t quite stop when they’d reached their destination, but it got better.

Emhyr held out both his hands so Geralt took them, once again feeling the nervousness drain from him at the touch. It didn’t matter that all their friends were looking at him. It still mattered a little that Ciri was standing right next to Emhyr and that Yvette was now clinging to her skirt as they both stared at their parents, too. 

Yen winked at him when Geralt looked briefly at her. “So, I think nobody wants to hear much more from me,” she said, directed at the assembled crowd. “That’s why we’re getting right to the vows now. Because what’s the fun in doing your own ceremony that’s in no way legally binding, don’t even think it’ll be, remember my disclaimers earlier, when you can’t bend the rules a little.” She smirked at Carthia in particular, brushing a strand of hair back out of her face. “Well, Emhyr, why don’t you start?”

Emhyr glanced at Geralt, before casting his eyes down. His hands were trembling slightly in Geralt’s. So he, too, was nervous. Geralt couldn’t help but smile fondly. He squeezed Emhyr’s hands for courage.

Emhyr swallowed. His voice was still slightly unstable for the first words of his vows, but grew stronger with each sentence. “When I first met Geralt, I wouldn’t have dreamed that we’d once be standing here, like this. For years, all I could see in him was something like a brother in law, important to someone we both loved, but not to me directly. And after Pavetta died, I have to admit, I was too caught up in my own grief not to be jealous of him for how close he, too, had been to her. But, through Ciri—” He briefly turned to smile at her. “—I got to know about him. Small things, first, like how kind he was, and how dedicated to his work. Over the years, I came to regret that we’d never managed to be friends. To be honest, there even was envy and jealousy of the people who were close to you, Geralt. It was hard for me to understand how you could want to be with anyone but me. And when you refused my help in an hour of dire need, I realized just how much I’d wronged you. The thought was unbearable and I know I forced my help upon you against your wishes. I was so terrified I’d ruined everything. So from then on, I savored every text, every joke, every moment in your presence. I cannot express in words just how thankful I am you allow me to stay by your side, every day, hopefully for the rest of our lives. I love you, Geralt. Even when you talk about orchids for hours in details I don’t yet quite understand. Even when you fall asleep on the couch halfway through a movie. Yes, and even when we sometimes fight. I love you. And I am so glad you agreed to marry me.”

Geralt blinked against the tears rising in his eyes. It wasn’t just the words. It was also the description of their relationship that sounded so much like his own. He hadn’t expected an apology this grand. He hadn’t expected this kind of declaration at love, either, that was so much more about the mundane and bad than the good.

“Gotta be honest, I really want to kiss you so bad right now,” Geralt laughed. “But, er, gotta get through my own vow first, right? So, here it goes…” He cleared his throat. “I love you for always being there for me when I need you. I love you because you take the time to tell me when I'm being an idiot and why. Wait. That sounds bad. But you know what I mean.” Emhyr probably did, because Geralt could tell he was trying not to laugh. “You care. A lot. You just sometimes don't know how to express it and I love that, too, about you." He rolled his eyes. "You still really grind my gears sometimes. But I love you anyway. Not just because you're responsible for all the best things in my life.” He looked over at their girls. “But…” He blinked. For a moment, he’d forgotten what he meant to say. ”Wait, I did make notes! Er... something something little things? ...ah. Right. I got it. It's a short story, actually. Back when you first offered me free reign over the garden, you said I didn't get to do anything about or with the rose bushes out front. I just accepted that, because, well, maybe you like them. But then one night, I remembered. Vetta planted them when you moved in here. And you didn't remind me. You'd rather have me angry at you than sad because you reminded me of pain. You never made me feel like a replacement. Our shared past, and our relationships with Vetta, could have been obstacles, because for a while, I too only saw my own shortcomings in you and blamed you for a lot. But really, they only made our relationship stronger. This is maybe not the right time to say this, but I'm glad I finally got to share my grief with the one person who understands. That mattered so much to me. I love you. And I will continue to do so. You're never getting rid of me again."

There were small tears shining in the corners of Emhyr’s eyes. He was holding on to Geralt’s hands as tight as he could. But he was also smiling, brightly. Geralt couldn’t make himself look away from it. It just made him so happy to see Emhyr this happy.

It took Yen clearing her throat rather loudly to get him to turn to their daughters. Ciri had handed Yvette a cushion with the rings on it that Yvette was now holding up over her head. She was up on her tiptoes as high as she could, looking determined and deeply concentrated. Geralt bit his lips. She was just too adorable.

Carefully, Emhyr picked up one of the rings. “Geralt,” he said, getting ready to slide it onto Geralt’s finger. “Will you accept this ring from me?”

“Of course.” The rings they’d agreed on looked plain, but Geralt knew an intricate pattern had been engraved on the inside. It had been a compromise, like most things in their life. Geralt had wanted something simple. Emhyr hadn’t, but he had been fine with the complexity being hidden. Once he had his, Geralt picked up the other ring.

“Emhyr, will you accept this ring from me?” he repeated their phrase.

“Yes, I do accept.” The ring slid easily onto Emhyr’s finger. Geralt knew that technically, they’d gotten married two and a half years ago, but it hadn’t felt like it. Not like this did. He didn’t wait for Yen’s prompting. He simply took Emhyr’s face in both hands and kissed him deeply.

“I’m so glad we did this,” he murmured against Emhyr’s lips. He can’t bring himself to let go yet, to end a perfect moment.

“As am I,” Emhyr responded, their faces still so close their breath was shared between them.

A tiny noise of impatience from Yvette broke the spell. Geralt leaned on Emhyr while he laughed. “Food?” he asked softly.

“I think so,” Emhyr replied equally as soft. He pulled away and let go of Geralt so he could turn to their guests. While Emhyr asked the guests to help set up tables between the chairs for the lunch they’d ordered from a caterer, Geralt turned to his girls. Yvette was asking to be picked up, so he lifted her onto his hip. She cuddled him, squeezing his neck a little in her excitement.

Ciri was laughing when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Congrats, dad,” she said.

“Thank you.” With his free hand, he tried to hug her, which, predictably, led to Yvette hugging her, too. While they still tried to untangle Yvette, Yen stepped up in front of them, ushering Emhyr to come closer, too. Cerys was right behind her, brandishing a camera.

“Do we have to?” Geralt groaned, but he let Ciri pull him into the pose she wanted. Emhyr took Yvette off Geralt’s arm so he could take Geralt’s freed hand.

“Yes, we do,” Emhyr said emphatically. He was making sure Yvette was looking nice for the photo. “Because I for one want at least some wedding pictures.”

Geralt sighed deeply. Yet another tradition there was no escape from for him. He put an arm around Ciri to have her in the frame as well.

Against all of Geralt’s expectations, they managed quite a few “nice” pictures with both their girls before Yvette had enough. She didn’t even get fussy, she just decided to hide her face against Emhyr’s neck and refused to look away until Ciri offered to carry her around instead. They decided on a quick snapshot with the witnesses of their marriage, before Yen ran off to help with the caterer’s food. Without Yen and Ciri, Geralt and Emhyr were left completely at the mercy of Cerys, who insisted on a whole lot more pictures. At least it also meant Geralt got to kiss his husband a bunch.

By the time they were done, Yen and Ciri had made sure the food was on the newly set up tables, everyone was seated and there was nothing left to do than sit down and eat. Between Eskel and Yen as her doting admirers, he didn’t even have to worry about Yvette much. People she didn’t see everyday were much more interesting than her parents. It was the most relaxed meal he’d had in months.

After lunch and a brief pause came the cake. Yen had picked it, deciding that as the best-woman, it was her duty. Mererid had, as far as Geralt knew, arranged the lunch and dinner with a caterer and, as a kind of wedding present, had made sure there was absolutely nothing urgent coming up for Emhyr until at least wednesday. 

The cake turned out to be a three tiered, covered in white icing and decorated with red sugar roses and candied rose petals. The cake topper was made from what looked like chocolate and didn’t just feature the silhouettes of kissing grooms, but also a small child and an older girl, both in dresses. Geralt had no idea how Yen had pulled that off, but it was gorgeous. He even felt a little bad when they cut into it.

The cake was good, even though Geralt only made it through half his piece before he was called over by Lambert. To Lambert’s neverending horror, Yvette loved him just as much as she loved any other of Geralt’s friends and had decided that she wanted his help with the cake. That, combined with his cluelessness and reluctance, led to buttercream from inside the cake all over her face and on Lambert’s cheek. Then, after he was done cleaning Yvette’s face and laughing at Lambert, Crach put an arm around his shoulder and congratulated him on their wedding. Geralt had to watch Yvette finish his piece of cake with Lambert’s help.

After Crach, there was Triss. For a second, Geralt had gotten his hopes up for another piece of cake, but it turned out she was holding two glasses of rosé wine, not plates. He still took it. One glass of wine couldn’t hurt.

“You looked so handsome and happy up there,” Triss remarked, raising her glass to toast him. “I’m seeing why you keep flaking on our movie nights.”

“Sorry,” Geralt said, feeling not the least bit sorry. He liked bi-weekly date nights with Emhyr. He wasn’t going to trade even one of them in for wine and movies with Yen and Triss. “You know how it is, suddenly your friends start getting boyfriends and next you know you only see them one weekend a month and they bring their screaming kids.”

“I  _ like  _ your screaming kid,” Triss laughed, pushing his arm. “You could ask me to babysit more often. Like you did with Ciri.”

“And put Ciri out of the extra pocket money? Not a chance.” Geralt shook his head. “Sorry. Turns out when you’re pushing forty by the time you have a kid, you don’t need as much help anymore. And you can pay for a very expensive kindergarten, too.”

Triss looked over to Emhyr, who’d somehow managed to get himself pulled into conversation with Eskel and Keira. “Still kinda amazing you got here.”

“Yeah,” Geralt agreed. “Amazing, really. Did I tell you about our waiter when we went out for our legal anniversary?” When Triss shook her head, he went on, “She was convinced we’ve been married for at least ten years. And I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. Because, well, in another life, it could have been true. Ok, I also know enough that we could have been going out forever.”

“So, have you stopped correcting people who assume you’re Ciri’s birth parent?”

Geralt drained his glass. “Yeah, and started correcting people who think that just because Ciri picks Yvette up from kindergarten, she must be her mom. Or worse, nanny.”

“Oh wow.” Triss laughed. “That’s really bad.”

“My favorite is still the look on people’s faces when they hear Yvette call Emhyr father,” Geralt smirked. “ _ She’s so polite _ they say. But really, she’s just immitating Ciri.”

“I don’t think I know the story behind that, either.” Triss nudged him. “Like, I remember you bragging about it when Ciri called you her real dad to his face, but…” She interrupted herself because Yen had joined them, holding a half empty bottle of red wine so she could refill their glasses.

“What’re you talking about?” Yen winked. “I hope you’re not trying to seduce Geralt away from his groom at their wedding.”

“I would never!” Triss laughed. “I was just wondering why the girls call Emhyr father.”

“Osmosis, from Ciri to Yvette,” Yen said with conviction. “As for Ciri, not even I know. She just started it after she stopped screaming her lungs out any time she was supposed to stay here.”

Geralt rubbed the back of his neck. “Look. You never ever heard this from me. Because I don’t think Ciri remembers and Emhyr doesn’t know. But I think this is kinda sorta my fault?”

Triss and Yen rolled their eyes at him, chorusing, “Of course it is.”

“So. Right. I never liked what we put Ciri through. And… ok. It was a bit my fault too because she knew how much I disliked him.” He shrugged. “Look. He didn’t stop my best friend from dying. I blamed him. Not proud of that, but I’m finally over it. But I couldn’t just let that stand in the way of Ciri knowing her father. Even I knew that much. Sooner or later she’d be glad to know.” He looked over to Ciri, who’d joined the group around her father. Keira had put an arm around her shoulders and was talking with fervor at Emhyr. Geralt hoped it was about a summer job at the practice. “In hindsight, I should be glad, too.” It was hard not to smile like an idiot every time he looked at Emhyr or touched his new wedding band. “Anyway. The story. I sat Ciri down and asked her why going with Emhyr was so bad. And she said she didn’t understand why she had to. She didn’t know him. And when I said he was her dad, she was adamant that that was me not him. I couldn’t just… explain the concept of biological parents to her. So I tried it with, well, I’m her dad and I’m always there for her, but he’s her father, who helped her come into this world but then had to leave for a couple of years when something bad happened to her mom. That seemed to be somewhat acceptable.” Geralt shrugged. “And now it’s just like their thing, a little inside joke they share and that’s alright, too. I think Emhyr was even happy when she started calling him father, because it acknowledges him as a parent but also is not the same as what Ciri calls me.”

Triss was shaking her head. “Parenthood has made you wise.”

“Yeah. No. Who’d have thunk, talking about your feelings is actually a good thing.” Geralt shrugged. “A lot more productive than demands and accusations, too. I do not miss those early days.”

“I think the only one that misses them is the guy I buy our booze from,” Yen said, raising her glass. “I’m really glad we never burned this house down.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Geralt took a large swig from his wine.

Yen subtly looked at the time on her phone. “Ready to dance with your husband in front of everybody?”

Geralt finished his second glass of wine. “Now I am.”

“Oh, come on, it won’t be that bad,” Yen laughed.

“Nah.” Geralt shook his head. “It won’t. We’ve spent the last couple of weeks going to dance class on our date nights. Not that Emhyr needed it, but I can waltz now.”

“You. At dance class.” Triss was shaking her head laughing. “You who never wanted to go out to dance in college.”

“Well. It’s different in class. But it was also really fun after I stopped looking at my feet.” Geralt shrugged. “I’m actually thinking of keeping it up, maybe. I dunno.”

“And you’re sure you don’t need more liquid courage?” Yen asked, raising the empty wine bottle. “I’m sure I could scrounge up another bottle of the good stuff.”

“If you could not.” Emhyr suddenly stood next to Geralt, putting an arm around his shoulders so he could pull him just a little closer. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re trying to get Geralt drunk.”

“I had one glass of red,” Geralt protested. Emhyr shot him a look that made it clear he knew about the glass of rosé, too. “What’s up?”

“Ciri reminded me we still have to make a spectacle of ourselves one more time,” Emhyr sighed. “She’s getting the speakers and her computer. I dread what song she came up with.”

“Good thing you warned the neighbors and bribed them.” Geralt pressed a kiss to Emhyr’s cheek. “Sorry, Yen, I just remembered that most of the good stuff has been given away.”

“Hmmmmm, I’m sure there’s still plenty left.” She winked. “Now, go. We all wanna see you two dance.”

Geralt rolled his eyes at her, but let himself be led over to the cleared space in front of the arch by Emhyr. He was feeling nervous again, despite the grounding hand on the small of his back. Just like in class, he told himself. Hand on Emhyr’s shoulder, the other placed on his. Let him lead, all he had to do was follow. They could still switch at some point. But he’d wanted Emhyr to lead their wedding waltz. Because deep down, since the time when he’d been barely over the discovery that he was an omega, he’d dreamt of a wedding to an alpha he loved and of them dancing together. It was the one thing he’d asked for, small, but infinitely important.

“I’m kinda glad I had all that wine,” Geralt whispered so only Emhyr could hear. “Nerves.”

“It’ll be fine,” Emhyr reassured him. He pecked Geralt’s lips. “I promise.”

The music started. Strings and harp notes filled the garden from the speakers. Ciri had picked something classical Geralt couldn’t quite identify but knew. He was swept up in the music, in Emhyr’s arms, as they twirled together through the steps of a waltz. It was everything. Exactly like he’d always imagined. A perfect, timeless moment.

As the music ended and they came to a stop, Emhyr didn’t let go just yet. He was looking at Geralt like he was the only person in his world. Geralt wasn’t sure who moved first, but the kiss was even more amazing than what he’d expected when he dreamt about his wedding back in the day.

“I love you,” he whispered, touching his forehead to Emhyr’s. “More than anyone or anything.”

“Me too,” Emhyr whispered back.

A wolf whistle made Geralt turn around to their audience. Lambert looked far too innocent, but a moment later, Geralt realized Ciri still had her hand raised and was smirking at him. Abusing the microphone she’d plugged in, she announced: “Now that this is over with, I have about an hour’s worth of dance music. So I’ll switch to that, for anyone else who wants to dance.” With that, she clicked around a bit until the music, much more modern this time, was on again.

With a sigh, Emhyr let go of Geralt. “So much for our moment to ourselves,” he whispered. “Who do you want to dance with first? Ciri or Yvette?”

“You dance with Ciri first. I think she needs the preferential treatment from you,” Geralt responded. “Your fight’s taking a toll on her. Be nice.”

“I will,” Emhyr promised. “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to expel her from her home.” He looked contrite. “I might have overdone it.”

Geralt hugged his husband. “She gets why, but the how… that’s a problem.”

“I know,” Emhyr whined softly. “I know, but, I can’t help myself sometimes. She just knows how to get to me.”

“Tell her that,” Geralt encouraged, pushing Emhyr towards their daughters. “And then try and make peace.”

Emhyr rolled his eyes at him but didn’t protest. He held his hand out to Ciri. “Would you grant me this dance?”

Ciri laughed as she put her hand in her father’s. “Of course.”

Geralt watched them for a moment. Yvette was tugging at his jacket to get his attention. “Me too,” she demanded. “Dance!”

“Of course,” Geralt said fondly. “Do you want to be on daddy’s arms or do you want to stand on daddy’s feet?”

Yvette thought hard about it. “Feet! Wanna dance too!”

“Alright.” Geralt held both her hands to hold her as she stood on the toes of his shoes. It was a bit of a balancing act, but he tried to go through the steps of a very slow waltz with her anyway. Yvette was having a great time, trying her best to follow his steps, even though she sometimes missed one which would mess with Geralt’s balance. But it was fun nonetheless.

When he switched partners with Emhyr, Yvette’s eyes were drooping already and she demanded to be picked up instead. Geralt watched Emhyr sway back and forth with her over Ciri’s shoulder for their entire dance.

“Are you happy, dad?” Ciri asked all of a sudden. She had the same inflection Emhyr did when he asked that question. The same he had when he’d first asked if Geralt would be happy with him.

“More than I ever thought I could be,” Geralt answered honestly. “And you?”

“Father said he’s sorry about our fight. Father!” Ciri laughed as she cuddled up to Geralt’s chest. “I love you both. So so much.”

After their father daughter dance, Geralt let her go to dance with Cerys, now that the songs were getting a little faster. Yen came up to him for his next dance, and then, after a brief interruption from Emhyr telling him he’d have to put Yvette to bed, with Triss. He made Eskel dance with him, too, and tried to get Lambert to dance with him only to end up dancing with Keira and after that, he danced with Carthia because she asked and before he knew, the hour was almost over and he’d spent the entire time dancing and he couldn’t see Emhyr anywhere.

Ciri had to have noticed his alarmed look, because she came up to him, holding her phone. “I went looking for him ten minutes ago,” she confided, showing him a picture of Emhyr, fast asleep in the nursery chair, Yvette’s current favorite picture book on the floor where it slipped from his hand, and Yvette herself curled up against his chest. “Didn’t have the heart to wake them.”

Geralt laughed softly. He felt all kinds of fussy inside looking at the picture. Two of the three most important people in his life. Two that he wouldn’t have had if it hadn’t been for his unexpected heat and the even less expected consequences. He blinked. There had been something Emhyr’d said in his vows. Something Geralt only noticed now that he thought about it. “Do you know how long your father has been in love with me?”

“Oh dad,” Ciri hugged him so she could hide his laughter, but he felt her shake with it. “It’s been almost ten years.”

  
  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe this is over. Thank you so much to everyone who read, left kudos, and/or commented. From the bottom of my heart: thank you all.


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